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EUNICE   LATHROP,  SPINSTER 


BY 

ANNETTE   LUCILLE   NOBLE 

Author  of  "Uncle  Jack's  Executors" 


NEW  YORK 

G.    P.    PUTNAM'S    SONS 

27  AND  29  WEST  23d  STREET 

1882 


COPYRIGHT  BY 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

1881 


Press  ef 
G.  P.  Putnam's  Son* 

fftw  York 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

WHITE  OLEANDER  BLOSSOMS  .     V«    : 


CHAPTER    II. 
ONE  YEAR        .......       .       .19 

CHAPTER   III. 
PERSUADING  A  SPINSTER        .       .       ..,_..       .38 

CHAPTER    IV. 
MRS.  CUDLIP'S  MANSION        ......     47 

CHAPTER  V. 
A  SUNDAY  AT  MRS.  CUDLIP'S        .       .  .       .     64 

CF.APTER   VI. 
A  SMALL  ENTHUSIAST    .......     85 


2061974 


iv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    VII. 

PACK 

MOONLIGHT  ON  THE  SEA 91 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
THREE  EPISODES  IN  THE  LIFE  OF  A  SMALL  NOBLEMAN  .    113 

CHAPTER    IX. 

NOT  ACCORDING  TO  ORDER 126 

CHAPTER    X. 
THE  SPINSTER  SPEAKS — BUT  VAGUELY.       .       .       .133 

CHAPTER   XI. 
A  GENRE  PICTURE 144 

CHAPTER    XII. 
THE  REV.  BELA  SPEAKS 151 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
A  LITTLE  "  ASIDE." 163 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
MOONLIGHT  ON  LAND     ....       .•'•'-•'  •    167 

CHAPTER   XV. 
THE  TEA-PARTY 178 


CONTENTS.  V 

CHAPTER    XVI. 

PAGE 

A  SMALL  BIGOT       ........    190 

CHAPTER    XVII. 
THE  SPINSTER  SPEAKS  AGAIN— AND  AGNES  .       .       .    203 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 
QUESTIONS  NOT  TO  BE  ANSWERED  AT  ONCE       .       .    224 

CHAPTER    XIX. 
SUNLIGHT  DARKENED 239 

CHAPTER    XX. 
THE  INQUEST 252 

CHAPTER    XXI. 
AT  THE  BAR .        .        .    271 

CHAPTER    XXII. 
IN  THE  AFTERNOON  ^ 288 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 
AFTER  THE  STORM  A  CALM 304 


EUNICE   LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

White  Oleander  Blossoms. 

T  T  7ALDENTON  was  like  a  clover  leaf,  divided 
*  *  into  three  parts;  only,  unlike  the  leaf,  its 
parts  were  not  equally  well  finished.  High  Walden- 
ton  kept  its  carriage,  had  a  conservatory,  indulged 
in  European  tours.  Middle  Waldenton  took  its 
walks  abroad  without  display,  picked  its  flowers 
from  rambling  garden  beds,  stayed  at  home  and 
read  books  of  travel.  Lower  Waldenton  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  hill,  literally  and  socially.  The  peo- 
ple on  the  heights  walked  about  in  shoes  made  there 
below,  sent  missionaries  among  the  inhabitants,  sen- 
tenced them  to  the  state-prison  when  they  cut  one 
another's  throats.  A  few  people  of  the  middle  town 
had  respectful  intercourse  with  those  above,  spoke 
of  them  in  a  tone  the  least  bit  reverential,  and  in 


2  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

turn,  were  characterized  as  "worthy"  persons;  but, 
in  the  main,  the  natural  terraces  of  the  hill,  to  which 
the  town  clung,  marked  its  artificial  divisions. 

The  Reverend  Bela  Hathaway  was  a  Calvinistic 
divine,  the  odor  of  whose  sanctity  seldom  betrayed 
his  existence  to  the  upper  town;  but  he  cared  not  at 
all  for  that.  He  had  his  church,  vine-covered  with 
the  growth  of  half  a  century,  surrounded  by  its  hoary 
graveyard;  and  such  of  his  congregation  as  were  not 
snugly  tucked  away  under  the  turf,  revered  and  loved 
their  prim  little  pastor.  There  were  many  parson- 
ages in  middle-town,  but  there  was  none  more  home- 
like than  the  small  one  cuddled  under  the  shelter  of 
this  broad-winged  old  church,  where  the  sunbeams, 
by  day,  darting  in  at  its  narrow  windows,  revealed 
the  birds'  nests  under  and  over  them,  and  made  it, 
through  and  through,  warm  and  sunny.  When  the 
moonlight  came,  one  could  stand  at  these  windows 
and  see  long  tree  shadows  flit  in  and  out  between 
the  tall,  white  tombstones.  Within  the  house,  ev- 
erything suggested  simplicity  and  uprightness,  from 
the  parson's  actual  and  theological  backbone  to  that 
of  his  antique  study-chair.  But  after  one  became 
more  at  home  in  the  place,  small  ornaments  revealed 
themselves — violets  on  the  marble  high  above  the 
old  "fire  dogs,"  an  engraving  of  Giulio  Romano's 
radiant-faced  Madonna — that  too,  over  a  shelf  of 


WHITE    OLEANDER    BLOSSOMS.  3 

sermons  by  writers,  in  their  day,  full  of  wrath  against 
the  abominations  of  Popery.  The  Reverend  Bela's 
daughter  had  hung  the  picture  there,  because  she 
found  it  lovely;  and  he  had  not  troubled  himself  to 
see  what  was  its  subject,  for  the  queen  could  do  no 
wrong,  and  queen  of  this  humble  domain  was  Agnes 
Hathaway.  She  was  a  slight,  olive-cheeked  girl, 
exceedingly  quiet  in  manner;  in  -mind — well,  fancy 
that  for  twenty  years  there  had  been  round  about 
her  much  theology,  most  suggestively  awful,  but  a 
pure,  kind  man  next  to  her;  and  that  she  had  the 
habit  of  making  the  most  of  any  sweetness,  even  if 
she  found  it,  like  violets  in  the  turf  by  the  graves — 
a  way  of  opening  unexpected  windows  to  the  sun,, 
for  many  hours,  although  she  knew  all  the  grewsome 
shadow-tricks  after  nightfall. 

Sitting  one  day,  as  was  her  custom,  in  her  father's 
study,  her  sewing  lying  idly  in  her  lap,  she  watched 
him  as  he  wrote.  He  was  a  thin  gray  man,  in  a  de- 
cent coat  and  white  cravat,  a  man  not  to  be  seen  in 
a  crowd,  unless  accused  of  picking  a  pocket.  Let 
that  happen  and  he  would  go  free  in  a  moment;  for 
he  might  not  be  conspicuous,  but  he  could  not  be 
wicked  and  appear  so  sincerely  solemn.  He  stopped 
writing  on  this  occasion  and  read  aloud  a  sentence 
just  finished :  "  Sincerity  is  the  most  compendious 
wisdom  and  an  excellent  means  for  the  speedy  de- 


<f  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

spatch  of  any  business.  It  creates  confidence,  saves 
many  inquiries,  and  brings  matters  to  an  issue  in 
few  words;"  then  he  paused  thoughtfully  and  seemed 
to  be  listening  to  the  birds  in  the  vines  a  while,  but 
of  a  sudden  turning  to  Agnes  he  said:  "Mr.  Rush- 
more  is  a  very  reserved  man  in  some  respects;  at 
the  same  time  he  is  quite  expansive.  Does  he  tell 
you  much  about  himself?" 

"  Yes,  we  often  talk  of  nothing  else.  I  do  not 
find  him  reserved." 

"I  think  myself  he  is  something  of  an  egotist." 
Seeing  her  about  to  protest  he  amended  it  to,  "  An 
egoist,  rather;  which  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  con- 
sidering his  parts.  He  is  a  man  of  the  world." 

The  last  phrase  was  not  quite  apt  in  Agnes's  opin- 
ion. She  said  slowly:  "  If  you  mean  one  who  has 
seen  the  world,  that  is  true;  but  he  seems  to  me 
very  unworldly." 

"Spiritually  minded  ?" 

"Perhaps  not  in  a  religious  sense;  but  guileless 
and  childlike." 

"  That  is  singular.  Men  who  adapt  themselves  to 
any  latitude,  as  he  says  he  does,  may  gain  consider- 
able experience,  but,  of  a  surety,  they  must  lose  the 
childlike  element  out  of  them." 

There  was  nothing  aggressive  in  the  clergyman's 
tone,  so  Agnes,  who  made  Mr.  Rushmore's  charac- 


WHITE    OLEANDER    BLOSSOMS.  5 

ter  much  of  a  study,  did  not  think  it  best  to  urge  her 
own  conclusions. 

"  He  comes  here  a  great  deal,"  he  continued. 
"Why  does  he?" 

"  He  says  he  likes  to  come,  although  I  have  little 
of  interest  to  say  to  him.  I  propose  often  to  call 
you,  but  he  says  no." 

"  Are  his  visits  tiresome  ?" 

"O,  not  at  all !  He  is  like  a  new  book — a  whole 
library  of  them,  or  the  journeys  I  would  like  to  take. 
In  our  rambling  talks,  I  see  odd  places  and  novel 
acting,  different  thinking  people.  I  get  ideas  that 
start  me  on  long  thoughts  that  widen  as  they  go." 

"  Indeed !  I  never  found  his  conversation  so  sug- 
gestive; but  at  my  age,  the  imagination  is  a  tame 
bird,  not  ever  ready  for  high  flights.  Perhaps, 
daughter,  you  get  more  out  of  that  he  says  than  he 
ever  puts  in." 

She  pricked  her  finger  with  her  needle,  as  she 
asked  quietly:  "  How  might  that  be  true  ? " 

"  Oh,  when  he  tells  of  a  flower  he  picked,  a  sunset 
he  saw,  perhaps  you  imagine  one  much  finer  and 
more  gorgeous.  It  is  not  his  at  all,  but  yours." 

"But  he  gave  it  to  me  first,  so  I  am  grateful,"  she 
answered,  glad  that  her  father  meant  that  which 
could  be  symbolized  by  pretty  sights. 

He  broke  out  again  after  a  long  silence.     "  The 


6  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

obstinacy  and  conceit  of  Peleg  Irving  is  incredible. 
His  skull  is  as  crammed  with  notions  as  a  thistle- 
top  is  with  seeds,  and  all  of  them  are  as  wandering 
and  pernicious." 

"  But  John  says  he  only  plays  with  them,"  said 
Agnes,  soothingly. 

"  If  he  comes  to-night  I'll  have  one  matter  out 
with  him,"  exclaimed  the  little  man  belligerently; 
but  she  well  knew  the  weapons  of  his  warfare  were 
not  carnal. 

Agnes  sat  musing  for  a  time,  pleasant  fancies 
brightening  her  eyes  while  strains  of  music  came 
softly  through  the  stillness  from  the  Church. 

"That  is  Rushmore  at  the  organ,  I  suppose,"  said 
her  father.  "  Well  I  have  no  particular  objections,  as 
I  told  him,  to  his  playing  low,  soft  music;  but  I  will 
not  have  any  fandango  performances." 

"  He  has  a  nice  sense  of  fitness,  father." 

"  I  hope  he  has." 

She  went  out  into  the  small  parlor  soon,  stopping 
at  the  mirror  to  smooth  her  black  hair,  looking  at 
herself  as  if  after  much  introspection  she  had  forgot- 
ten what  manner  of  person  she  was  on  the  outside 
— this  Agnes  about  whom  all  life  was  now  opening 
out  luminously,  for  no  reason  yet  to  her  apparent. 
The  music  ceasing  she  seated  herself  in  a  nook  by 
the  window  to  watch  Rushmore  come  leisurely  out 


WHITE    OLEANDER    BLOSSOMS.  7 

-cm  the  Gothic  doorway,  across  the  grass.  She 
.vas  pleased  and  ready  to  show  her  pleasure;  for 
vvere  they  not  most  excellent  friends  ?  Was  she 
not  learning  from  him  a  little  about  music,  more  of 
German,  something  of  art  and  the  sorts  of  literature 
least  obtrusive  in  the  parson's  library  ?  For  his  part, 
he  was  reading  Agnes's  life  off  the  page  of  each  day, 
doing  it  with  the  half-amused,  half-reverent  interest 
of  an  appreciative  heretic  conning  the  rose-exhaling 
legends  of  a  sweet  Saint  Elizabeth,  or  the  aspira- 
tions of  a  pure  Scholastica.  His  world  was  full  of 
good  women,  but  heretofore,  the  best  of  them  had 
seemed  a  trifle  stupid,  and  the  prettiest  he  had 
found  most  interesting  when  bent  on  mischief. 

He  came  out  of  the  church  in  a  moment  and 
stopped  to  pluck  a  little  bouquet.  It  was  good,  he 
thought,  to  be  able  to  give  it  to  Agnes,  even  with 
a  pretty  compliment  and  know  she  would  take  it 
simply  as  a  flower,  not  as — a  flirtation.  Entering 
the  parsonage  through  a  latticed  green  porch,  not 
unlike  a  big  bird-cage,  he  put  the  roses  in  her  hand 
and  himself  in  an  easy-chair,  drawn  out  for  him. 
"  Did  you  hear  my  music  and  like  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"Very  much,  but  you  must  never  get  into  any 
gay  mood  over  there  and  tell  of  it  through  the 
organ;  father  would  not  be  pleased." 

"So  he  said  to  me,  one  day  when  I  chose  an  air 


8  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

from  the  wildest  of  operas  and  played  it  like  a  psalm 
of  David's — when  I  came  down,  he  was  in  the  porch 
and  told  me  it  was  a  '  soul-full  tune';  but  I  won't 
cheat  him  again.  It  was  too  womanish  a  trick." 

As  he  leaned  back  in  the  tall  chair,  letting  his 
fine,  brown  eyes  rest  contentedly  on  Agnes  she 
asked:  "  Why  is  such  a  trick  more  like  a  woman's 
than  a  man's  ? " 

"  Because  a  woman  tickles  herself  with  the  power 
to  have  her  own  way,  and  at  the  same  time  please  a 
man  whom  she  makes  to  think  that  he  has  had  his. 
Is  not  that  so  ?  " 

"  You  seem  to  imply  that  all  women  are  full  of 
guile.  I  don't  believe  it." 

"  Good  heavens — nor  I !  They  are  only  infinitely 
rich  in  resources.  If  a  man,  for  instance,  has  a 
secret  to  cover,  he  must  lie  like  an  Ananias  or 
plant  himself  in  front  of  it  with  a  bludgeon  to 
brain  the  first  questioner.  Old  Mother  Nature,  who 
taught  the  bird  to  flutter  where  her  nest  is  not,  has 
taught  every  woman  some  art  as  dainty  for  the  time 
when  she  would  call  off  an  intruder." 

"Tact  is  another  thing.  I  have  fancied  often 
that  you  did  not  think  any  woman  always  told  the 
truth." 

"Except  yourself,  of  course,"  he  answered  lightly, 
laughing.  "  I  have  never  known  one  always  truth- 


WHITE    OLEANDER    BLOSSOMS.  $ 

ful.  It  is  impossible.  In  self-defence,  they  must  be 
innocently  deceitful." 

"  There  is  no  such  thing  as  innocent  deceit. 
White  that  goes  toward  black  is  gray — cloudy,  less 
than  white." 

"O  call  it  being  elusive  then.  You  are  a  little 
Puritan  and  think  you  believe  that.  You  never 
had  a  secret,  but  you  will  have  plenty  of  them  some 
day,  then,  when  they  are  approached,  you  will,  like 
children  at  play,  cry  '  cold  ' ! " 

She  shook  her  head,  smiling,  but  positive. 

"  This  moment,  with  unexpected  questions,  I 
could  make  you  tell  more  or  less  than  the  truth." 

"You  could  confuse  me  or  make  me  silent,  no 
doubt;  but  if  I  told  a  lie,  I  would  know  it,  be 
ashamed  of  it,  and  not  glide  into  it  in  any  pretty 
fashion  to  be  forgiven,  because  fibbing  is  a  femi- 
nine trait." 

He  smiled  down  at  her,  amused,  admiring,  his 
eyes  full  of  light;  by  and  by  he  said:  "Does  not 
my  constant  coming  here  weary  you,  and  do  not  so 
much  reading  and  purposeless  talk  take  too  much 
of  your  time  ? " 

"  I  have  a  great  deal  of  time  to  myself,"  she  re- 
plied. "In  fact,  as  some  one  has  said,  I  have  'all 
the  time  there  is,'  and  I  enjoy  seeing  friends." 

"  If  I  were  in  your  place  I  should  be  bored,"  he 


10  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

remarked,  "but  as  it  is,  I  am  to  be  envied  for  hav- 
ing such  a  patient  friend.  I  don't  know  why  good 
women  are  always  tolerant  of  me,  but  they  are.  It 
is  undeserved  luck." 

Agnes  thought  it  natural  that  he  should  be  not 
only  tolerated,  but  that  he  should  be  universally  be- 
loved. However,  she  did  not  say  that,  but  only 
smiling  to  herself,  sewed  away,  industriously.  Rush- 
more  was  not  particularly  conceited.  He  felt  him- 
self honored  by  Agnes's  regard,  and  inasmuch  as  he 
thought  he  could  appreciate  her,  he  believed  he 
was  worthier  of  that  regard  than  were  most  men. 
He  wished  her  to  know  him  at  his  best,  but  not  to 
idealize  him.  He  was  even  willing  she  should  see 
his  weaknesses,  if  they  would  beget  an  interest  in 
him.  Like  the  Dane  he  seemed  to  say  by  his  com- 
placency toward  her  true  unworldliness:  "In  thy 
orisons  be  all  my  sins  remembered." 

He  intended  sometime  to  marry;  he  said  it  would 
be  when  he  found  some  one  without  whom  he  could 
not  live.  Existence  alone  had  been  to  him,  and 
still  was,  quite  possible.  He  had  carried  himself 
safely  through  a  round  of  flirtations  of  varied  inten- 
sity, through  and  out.  This  Platonic  friendship  was 
a  first  experience.  He  had  a  piquant  sense  of  nov- 
elty in  finding  himself  en  rapport  with  much  that 
was  foreign  to  his  own  turn  of  mind  and  previous 


WHITE    OLEANDER    BLOSSOMS.  n 

associations.  If  it  sometimes  occurred  to  him  that 
he  might  be  tending  toward  what  was  not  now  an- 
ticipated, he  let  the  thought  go  unchallenged. 
What  then  ? 

"  You  say,  Miss  Hathaway,  that  you  have  always 
lived  in  Waldenton,  yet  I  never  saw  you  until  last 
summer — the  day  I  was  looking  for  a  record  needed 
in  a  lawsuit,  the  date  of  a  marriage  twenty  years 
ago.  I  found  it  on  your  father's  book — and  found 
you  at  the  same  time.  How  I  have  haunted  the 
place  since  !  Your  father  seems  to  be  getting  great- 
ly excited,"  said  he  looking  toward  the  study.  "  Does 
he  ever  fling  the  inkstand  at  the  wall  paper  ?" 

"  No,  it  is  only  some  argument  with  old  Mr.  Irv- 
ing, he  came  in  about  the  time  you  came." 

"  O,  he  is  a  mild  and  respectable  devil  to  play 
Luther  with  !  What  gets  them  so  wrought  up  ? " 

"  Nothing  that  ever  comes  to  anything  but  noise. 
John  says  his  father  delights  to  come  here  as  a 
younger  man  would  go  to  a  gymnasium  and  turn 
summersaults.  When  his  business  hours  are  over, 
he  comes  home  by  the  old  book-stalls,  and  stops  to 
read,  maybe  he  buys  some  treatise  on  ancient  ne- 
cromancy, or  a  defence  of  spiritualism,  and  picks  out 
all  the  plums.  If  he  would  only  eat  them  like  Jack 
Homer,  no  harm  would  come;  but  no,  he  brings  the 
most  indigestible  over  here  to  choke  poor  father." 


12  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

"  Peleg  is  a  fine  old  gentleman,  for  all  that." 

"  Yes,  only  father  never  can  get  used  to  jokers. 
He  can't  positively  say  they  are  wicked,  but  he  does 
not  know  what  to  do  with  them,  he  would  not  have 
made  the  world  with  any  of  them  in  it." 
I  "  He  is  like  his  daughter  in  wanting  people  to  be 
earnest,  but  old  Peleg  Irving  is  steady  as  a  pendu- 
lum where  business  is  concerned.  He  has  been 
thirty  years  in  my  father's  bank." 

"We  know  his  worth;  the  family  has  lived  near 
us  half  that  time,"  was  Agnes's  answer. 

"John  Irving  and  I  studied  out  of  the  same  primer, 
but  reserve  on  his  part  separated  us  later.  I  made 
advances,  but  he  was  very  unresponsive.  You  must 
approve  of  him,  he  has  qualities  you  would  require  in 
a  man  after  your  own  mind.  He  does  not  tell  lies  ? " 

"  Do  other  men  ?     Do  you  ? " 

"  I  have  never  told  you  one.  I  promise  not  to  do 
it.  But  I  am  not  absolutely  incapable  of  some- 
thing less  than  truth  as  you  seem  to  understand  it." 

Agnes  asked  herself  if  he  could  be  more  sincere 
than  she,  after  all.  Perhaps  he  looked  into  his  own 
character  in  the  same  large,  dispassionate  way  he 
looked  out  on  the  world — perhaps  a  self-knowledge 
was  thereby  obtained  which  made  him  as  liberal  and 
far-sighted  as  she  might  be  narrowly  punctilious 
and  unaware  of  her  own  tendencies. 


WHITE    OLEANDER    BLOSSOMS.  13 

Watching  her  small  grave  mouth  and  thoughtful 
eyes,  he  added:  "  You  are  a  true  child  by  natural 
descent  of  more  than  one  divine.  I  cannot  enter  on 
a  little  gossip  with  you  about  your  neighbor,  but  lo ! 
we  are  in  the  moralities.  I  flounder  in  the  very  bog- 
giest part,  and  I  fear  only  get  out  well  smirched  in 
your  eyes.  You,  who  sail  serenely  above  me  in  the 
thin  air,  look  as  uncontaminated  as  Lefebvre  Verite 
in  the  Luxembourg;  for  even  a  Frenchman  can 
make  truth  visible,  if  it  be  charming." 

She  heard  her  father's  voice,  and  wondered  if  he 
would  find  a  place  in  his  world  for  a  compliment- 
maker  any  easier  than  one  for  a  joker.  The  study 
door  being  open  and  matters  there  extremely  lively, 
both  Rushmore  and  Agnes  became  listeners  and 
spectators.  Mr.  Irving  was  a  wisp  of  a  man,  agile 
as  a  grasshopper  and  as  unceremonious.  He  had 
been  uttering  some  grievous  heresy.  The  minister 
was  advancing  upon  him  with  uplifted  forefinger,  ex- 
horting him  to  search  the  Scripture,  if  he  would  know 
of  the  doctrine  as  he  himself  knew — what  doctrine 
was  not  evident  to  the  listeners.  Bowing  deferen- 
tially, Peleg  opened  the  outer  door  before  he  replied: 
"  Exactly  so,  my  dear  sir.  I  have  but  a  thought  in 
return.  Says  Emanuel  Swedenborg  this — " 

The  Reverend  Bela  drew  up  for  a  spring. 

Peleg  went  on  with  rapid,  guileful  gentleness — • 


14  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

"Says  Swedenborg:  'I  have  been  permitted  to  con- 
verse with  several  after  death,  who  believed  they 
should  shine  as  the  stars  in  the  firmament,  because 
they  had  perused  the  Scripture  often  and  collected 
many  things  from  it  whereby  they  had  confirmed  the 
tenets  of  their  particular  faith  and  had  acquired  the 
reputation  of  being  learned  men.  On  their  exami- 
nation it  was  discovered  they  did  not  know  a  single 
general  truth,  but  only  truth  falsified.  This  was  a 
consequence  of  reading  the  Word  only  with  a  v,iew 
to  themselves.  Such  persons  were  cast  down,  but 
remained  full  of  the  conceit  that  they  deserved  to 
be  in  heaven.'  Ha  !  ha  !  Good  night,  sir  ! "  and 
before  the  exasperated  dominie  could  gasp,  the 
wicked  human  grasshopper  was  half  way  across 
the  churchyard,  shaking  with  laughter. 

Mr.  Hathaway  felt  himself  outraged,  but  could 
only  groan.  Every  few  days  Mr.  Irving  sidled  into 
that  study,  as  if  intent  on  serious  conference;  all 
would  go  well  for  a  while,  then  a  man  of  sin  would 
seem  to  get  into  his  waistcoat  and  give  out  what  to 
the  Reverend  Bela  were  appalling  propositions,  while 
a  total  lack  of  method  in  his  reasoning  was  the  most 
hopeless  thing  about  him. 

To-night  Rushmore  stifling  a  laugh  at  Peleg's  exit 
said:  "Your  father  mistakes  Harlequin  for  Me- 
phistopheles,"  then  seeing  that  the  minister  was  not 


WHITE    OLEANDER    BLOSSOMS.  15 

likely  to  stay  longer  in  the  study,  he  rose  and  took 
his  leave,  saying,  "  I  must  go  now." 

He  was  a  dark,  well-made  man,  with  nervous 
energy  enough  at  times,  but  indolent  in  manner. 
Standing  in  the  door,  which  she  had  left  open  to  ad- 
mit the  sunset  light,"  Agnes  saw  him  stop  to  admire 
an  oleander-tree  full  of  deep-hued  blossoms,  and  fol- 
lowed him  outside. 

"  I  never  saw  this  here  before;  have  you  kept  it 
in  the  house,  Miss  Agnes  ?  " 

"No;  it  is  too  large  for  that.  It  was  brought  to 
the  church  and  stood  last  year  in  the  dark  porch; 
there  it  bore  a  few  blossoms,  but  they  were  almost 
white.  I  brought  it  this  year  to  the  light,  and  this 
is  the  result." 

"  Little  nuns  last  year  in  a  cloister;  when  they 
came  out  the  sun  kissed  them  and  they  blushed 
pink — which  way  are  they  most  charming  ?  " 

"  They  were  lovely  and  white  in  that  dim  nook  in 
the  church." 

"  I  can  well  believe  it  !  I  am  pleased  that  I  drew 
you  out  here  to  tell  me  the — parable." 

She  looked  at  him  inquiringly.  He  laughed  with 
almost  caressing  warmth  in  his  eyes;  they  were  un- 
fortunate eyes  to  use  in  a  friendship  like  this. 

"  Yes,  the  best  teachers  have  always  told  beauti- 
ful truths  in  parables,  and  am  I  not  a  disciple  of 


16  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

yours  ?     Good-by.     I  will  take   a  blossom  as  you 
give  me 'none." 

That  night  Agnes,  in  her  small  chamber  under 
the  eaves,  gave  herself  to  the  self-analysis  that 
comes  to  be  a  habit  of  mind  to  one  so  made,  above 
all,  so  nurtured  as  she  had  been.  Were  all  women 
unconsciously  deceitful  or  secretive  ?  Was  she  hid- 
ing anything  ?  It  would  have  startled  the  man  who 
went  away  jesting  about  the  changed  white  flower 
if  he  could  have  known  the  self-knowledge  let  in  on 
the  young  girl  as  she  searched  her  soul  that  night. 
He  would  have  seen  himself  idealized  to  what  he 
might  sometimes  have  dimly  fancied  a  non-corporeal 
Rushmore  quite  of  the  heaven,  heavenly  would  be — 
if  he  ever  in  imagination  so  projected  himself  on  and 
up  into  futurity.  Nevertheless  Agnes  fashioned  this 
ideal  character  out  of  the  actual  man  who  looked  at 
her  with  eyes  that  gave  her  pleasant,  if  undefined 
fancies,  the  man  who  sat  in  her  easy-chairs  and  told 
his  adventures  in  a  way  to  work  the  "  witchcraft " 
of  Othello.  Often  he  talked  of  other  men,  and  she 
found  him  humanly  tender,  broad,  and  patient.  If 
the  patience  was,  mayhap,  half  indifference,  the  char- 
ity a  conviction  that  the  live  and  let  live  policy  was 
the  easiest,  how  could  she  be  wise  enough  to  know  or 
cool  enough  to  believe  it  ?  Love  came  to  her  as  a 
great  uplift  out  of  self — as  appreciation  of  another 


WHITE    OLEANDER    BLOSSOMS.  17 

soul  conceived  to  be  nobler  and  stronger.  She  real- 
ized now  that  for  months  her  thoughts  had  been  set 
to  the  keynote  of  this  music.  But  she  called  her 
love  friendship.  She  reflected  that  it  must  mean 
much  less  to  Rushmore  than  it  meant  to  her.  Well, 
what  then  ?  A  certain  quaint  old  book,  penned  ages 
before  a  Calvin  persecuted  a  Servetius  for  heresy, 
was  the  treasure  of  our  little  New  England  Quietest. 
Her  father  might  have  been  as  much  offended  by 
her  perversion  of  a  bit  of  it  to-night,  as  by  her  all- 
time  love  of  it.  Standing  at  her  window,  in  the,  star- 
light, that  did  not  reveal  the  glow  on  her  cheeks  as 
it  failed  to  bring  out  the  oleander  pink  blossoms  just 
below — she  said  to  herself:  "  Even  if  he  could  not 
feel  in  this  way,  7  can  do  it — '  I  will  give  all  for  all, 
seek  nothing,  ask  back  nothing,  abide  purely  and 
with  a  firm  confidence.  I  will  be  free  in  heart,  and 
Darkness  shall  not  tread  me  down.'" 

The  woman  had  her  secret;  but  it  was  a  very 
white  one;  and  it  would  have  been  easy  to  predict 
how  the  coming  days  would  be  met  by  her.  A  vul- 
gar giver  bestows  a  gift  and  then  expects  a  return, 
or  plots  to  suggest  it  in  the  recipient's  mind.  It  is 
even  so  with  gifts  not  to  be  weighed  or  measured; 
but  Agnes  Hathaway  loved  from  herself  out,  not  in- 
versely. If  she  had  by  so  much  as  a  thought-upon 
smile,  or  the  putting  of  a  flower  in  her  hair,  known 


1 8  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

herself  to  be  reaching  out  to  draw  Rushmore  nearer, 
she  would  have  been  ashamed.  Nevertheless,  he 
did  perceive  in  her  the  presence  of  something  he  had 
not  before  recognized.  She  was  even  more  in  earnest. 
She  wished  to  know  him  better.  He  saw  the  "Why  " 
in  her  eyes,  as  one  sees  it  in  some  children's  of  few 
words.  When  he  told  her  that  he  was  doing,  think- 
ing, feeling  thus  and  so,  because  it  seemed  good  to 
him,  she  took  it  seriously,  as  a  matter  of  intellectual 
philosophy  to  be  pondered  over.  Now  to  know  one's 
self  to  be  interesting  to  another  is  to  be  flattered  by 
one's  own  consciousness,  and  naturally  Rushmore 
was  as  pleased  as  he  was  amused. 


I 


CHAPTER    II. 

One   Year. 

T  was  the  evening  of  a  midsummer  day,  and 
Agnes,  returning  from  an  errand,  was  thread- 
ing the  streets  that  led  to  her  home.  The  middle- 
town  was  like  a  belt  around  a  hill;  its  streets  ran 
up  and  down  or  wound  hither  and  yon  in  long 
sweeps.  They  were  paved  with  cobblestones  shaded 
by  elms,  often  shut  in  between  walls  covered  with 
vines;  for  the  picturesque  houses  were  back  from 
the  road,  and  set  at  every  angle.  The  best  thing 
was,  that  Agnes,  when  standing  in  her  own  door, 
could  look  over  her  neighbors'  chimneys,  off  to  the 
high  hills  from  whence  came  much  poetry,  into  her 
prosaic  life,  by  ways  known  to  herself.  To-night, 
before  the  moon  was  up,  the  hills  were  phantoms, 
and  only  the  outlines  of  near  objects  were  well  de- 
fined; but  the  warm  dimness  was  flower  perfumed, 
and  Agnes  was  not  afraid  of  meeting  any  but  peace- 
ful pilgrims  like  herself.  As  she  passed  a  certain 


20  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

gate,  a  gentleman  standing  there,  looked  sharply  at 
her  slim  figure,  then  hastened  to  overtake  her,  say- 
ing: "Miss  Agnes,  I  suppose  my  father  is  at  your 
house." 

"It  is  very  likely,"  she  replied,  "for  last  night 
when  their  discussion  was  at  its  liveliest,  father  was 
called  to  see  a  sick  person." 

"What  was  it  all  about  ?  I  never  know;  only  if 
my  father  comes  home  radiant,  I  infer  '  it  was  a 
famous  victory.' " 

Agnes,  laughing,  exclaimed:  "Don't  you  imagine 
he  conquers  in  any  legitimate  way.  He  lays  traps, 
•he  causes  panics,  his  elephants  are  all  shams;  but 
when  my  father  sees  them  advancing  he  prepares 
for  something  tremendous." 

"  I  will  go  home  with  you  and  bring  off  that  frol- 
icsome parent,  or  he  will  wear  your  father's  patience 
out.  Let  me  carry  your  basket." 

She  gave  him  a  little  empty  one  that  she  carried 
and  he  said:  "I  often  hear  the  organ  now  when  I 
pass  the  church." 

"Yes.  Mr.  Rushmore  likes  to  go  there  and 
amuse  himself.  He  laughs  at  me  because  I  think 
he  plays  well." 

"If  he  enjoys  anything  he  can  always  make  it 
pleasant  for  others." 

"  You  know  him  ?" 


ONE     YEAR.  21 

y 

"  No." 

"  I  remember — he  said  you  were  very  reserved 
and  would  not  let  him  be — well  get  better  ac- 
quainted with  you;  but  he  praised  you." 

"Of  course — if  he  said  I  was  reserved,  that  im- 
plies wisdom  at  command,  if  one  would  only  talk  it 
out.  Well,  I  do  not  understand  him,  so  it  is  an 
even  matter." 

"  He  is  very  accessible." 

"  As  much  so  as  a  house  with  a  door  wide  open 
into  the  reception  room." 

"  And  all  the  rest  shut  up,  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Perhaps." 

"  That  is  right.  People  in  general  have  no  need 
to  go  farther  in.  You  receive  them  on  the  door- 
step, so  why  are  you  critical  of  him  ?  " 

He  evaded  the  question  by  returning,  "  If  I  meet 
you,  as  you  say,  it  is  my  warmest  welcome,  and 
though  the  latch  string  is  always  out,  you  never 
have  pulled  it  yet." 

"  I  will  venture  in  some  day,"  she  answered  light- 
ly, "  and  go  on  an  exploring  expedition  among 
your  household  treasures.  But  what  were  you  go- 
ing to  say  about  Mr.  Rushmore  ? " 

"Nothing  of  him.  Because  he  is  genial  a  man  is 
not  to  be  known  in  a  day,  nor  is  one  always  worth 
knowing  because  he  is  '  reserved,'  but  don't  apply  a 


22  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

platitude  to  Mr.  Rushmore  if  he  has  applied  one  to 
me.  He  smiles  like  the  sun  on  everybody,  but  he 
is  not  a  villain  for  that.  The  thing  I  remember  of 
him  as  a  boy,  was  his  refinement.  He  appreciated 
much  that  escaped  other  boys." 

Agnes  smiled  in  the  dark  to  think  how  much  bet- 
ter she  could  understand  this,  than  John  Irving  had 
done.  The  latter  wondered  what  her  interest  in 
Rushmore  meant,  although  it  was  no  new  thing  for 
her  to  ask  his  opinion  of  people.  She  studied  the 
mental  traits  of  her  acquaintances  as  some  women 
study  gores  and  flounces. 

When  they  approached  the  parsonage  gate,  the 
moon  was  up  over  the  mountain,  silvering  the  tops 
of  all  the  pine-trees  down  to  the  valley.  In  the 
new  light  Agnes  saw  some  one  sitting  alone  in  the 
porch,  and  divined  that  it  was  Rushmore. 

Irving  began  to  toss  her  frail  basket  about  in  the 
air,  until  she,  laughingly  rescued  it. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question  ? " 

"  What  my  basket  had  in  it,  no  doubt — berries  for 
old  Mrs.  Beatty." 

"  No.  I  don't  believe  you  know  me  much  better 
than  Julian  Rushmore  does.  Do  you  want  to  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  like  to  know  people — why  they  think  as 
they  do;  often  I  leave  the  door  open  into  the  study 
and  listen,  when  your  father  is  really  in  earnest.  If 


ONE    YEAR.  23 

you  teach  me  new  things,  I  shall  be  grateful.  I  am 
ignorant.  I  feel  more  than  I  know." 

"  God  pity  the  woman  who  does  not  find  that  true 
— but  I  was  not  applying  for  a  teacher's  position." 

She  opened  the  gate  and  was  first  also  at  the 
porch,  then  she  recognized  Mr.  Rushmore,  greeted 
him,  and  presented  Mr.  Irving. 

Rushmore  rising,  grasped  his  hand  saying :  "  In 
that  almost  prehistoric  time,  when  I  called  you 
Johnnie,  and  borrowed  your  ball  if  I  lost  mine — 
how  we  would  have  laughed  at  the  idea  of  being  in- 
troduced to  one  another  as  old  bachelors  !  " 

Irving  made  a  gracious  answer. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Agnes,  he  was  my  good,  self-sacrific- 
ing friend,  save  once,  then  he  thrashed  me  out- 
rageously." 

"You  deserved  it,"  said  John,  surprised  into  a 
laugh.  He  lingered  a  moment  or  two,  then  excus- 
ing himself,  stepped  one  side,  and  entered  the  study 
through  a  low  window.  The  embarrassing  thought 
had  occurred  to  him,  that  with  these  two,  he  might 
be  the  "third"  who  would  make  a  "crowd."  Five 
minutes  before,  that  idea  would  have  been  the 
lightest  of  vapory  fancies,  now  it  enveloped  him 
like  an  atmosphere,  when  he  left  Rushmore,  so  evi- 
dently at  home  in  the  place. 

Agnes  would  have  gone  into  the  parlor  where 


24  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

there  was  lamplight,  but  Rushmore  protested,  say- 
ing, "  Please  be  satisfied  with  the  good  old  lamp 
that  never  needs  fuss  of  oil  or  wick-trimming. 
Yours  will  only  attract  the  beetles  that  are  such  a 
terror  to  you.  You  try  to  be  heroic;  but  you  wince 
when  one  appears." 

She  returned  to  sit  in  the  porch,  answering : 
"  That  is  only  because  I  like  living  creatures  not  to 
be  too  erratic  for  me  to  imagine  what  they  will  do 
next." 

"Women  who  are  able  to  forecast  events,  are 
miserable,  hand-wringing  Cassandras.  Could  I  en- 
dure one,  who  would  darkly  prophesy  how  or  when 
I  should  make  a  fool  of  myself?  Let  Time  alone  for 
that,  he  will  see  the  occasion  is  forthcoming." 
"  I  might  know  and  not  tell." 
"  No,  you  would  do  your  plain  duty." 
They  were  silent  awhile,  hearing  the  crickets, 
watching  the  twinkling  of  fireflies,  or  the  moving 
boat-lights  far"  off  below  on  the  river  under  the  hill. 
From  the  parlor  behind  them  opened  a  door  into  the 
study.  They  could  hear  the  old  gentlemen's  debate, 
and  Rushmore,  glancing  around,  could  see  Irving 
bending  over  a  book  he  had  taken  from  the  table. 
His  strong,  clean-shaven  face  was  in  the  shadow. 
Something  in  his  large,  quiet  figure,  suggested 
strength  and  self-control,  perhaps,  by  its  contrast 


ONE    YEAR.  25 

with  the  smaller  excited  talkers,  gesticulating  as 
they  walked  the  room. 

Rushmore  turned  about  again,  and  said  to  Agnes: 
"What  am  I  going  to  do  next  ?  It  is  known  to  me, 
and  is  quite  a  new  move.  Guess  ? " 

"  I  cannot.  I  often  read  of  women,  so  quick  in 
their  intuitions,  they  can  tell  what  is  stirring  the 
air  on  its  way  to  them.  I  never  know  things  in  that 
way." 

"  I  thought  you  were  a  good  mind-reader." 

"  No,  I  read  faces  well  enough  to  see  whether  the 
best  or  the  worst,  the  coarse  or  the  fine,  has  worked 
fastest  in  them;  but  I  cannot  ever  tell  how  people 
will  do  or  be,  unless  they  think  or. feel  as  I  do.  I 
look  in  and  guess  at  them." 

"  What !  a  New  England  girl  who  does  not  have 
inspirations !  Can't  you  see  the  Rushmore  I  will 
be,  for  instance,  if  I  ever  happen  to  be  differently 
'  insphered  '  as  the  fine  phrase  goes  ?  " 

She  wondered  if  he  were  laughing  at  her,  but  she 
answered  sincerely:  "  It  always  comes  to  me  that 
the  thing  that  is  highest,  and  so  of  course  right,  is 
the  thing  you  would  have  power  to  do." 

"  Because  it  seems  to  you  that  would  be  true  of 
yourself? " 

"  Yes." 

"  It  is  probable  I  should  do  the  polite,  the  politic, 


26  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER, 

the  customary  thing,  and  let  the  '  highest '  fly  over 
my  head,  like  a  kite  without  any  string  to  hold  it," 
said  Rushmore,  lazily;  nevertheless,  he  thought  it 
was  fine  to  have  her  believe  that  of  him.  All  her 
theories  were  beautiful  and  she  had  assimilated  them. 
He  could  trace  most  of  them  to  the  copious  cate- 
chism that  had  been  administered  to  her  in  her  in- 
fancy. He  might  have  indulged  himself  in  much 
more  logical  discussions  with  the  father  of  this 
sweet-voiced  talker;  but  the  Reverend  Bela's  voice 
never  varied  with  little  thrills  of  controlled  earnest- 
ness, grew  fine  and  soft,  clear  again  and  ringing. 
His  eyes  were  never  mistily  radiant,  as  if  in  their 
light  the  listener  was  being  somehow  transfigured. 
Rushmore  did  see  all  this  in  Agnes,  and  would  have 
learned  and  recited  to  her  the  New  England  Primer 
if  she  had  insisted  that  it  would  conduce  to  his  spir- 
itual culture. 

"Then,  if  you  cannot  know  by  any  melancholy 
sympathy,  what  I  have  come  to  tell  you  to-night,  I 
must  say  it  all  myself." 

"If  it  is  melancholy,  don't  let  us  protract  it." 

"  Perhaps  it  will  not  be  melancholy  to  you.  Let 
us  go  in,"  he  exclaimed;  "the  stiffness  is  all  out  of 
the  angel's  wings." 

A  fold  of  her  muslin  dress  had  blown  across  his 
hand;  but  he  suggested  going  within  in  a  nervous 


ONE    YEAR.  27 

way,  as  if  he  were  not  at  ease.  When  they  were 
seated  again  in  the  circle  of  true  lamp's  rays,  he  hesi- 
tated before  he  said  gravely:  "  I  find  that  I  must  go 
away  from  Waldenton  for  six  months,  perhaps  for  a 
year.  There  are  business  matters  connected  with 
my  father's  bank  which  no  one  but  a  lawyer  can 
manage,  and  naturally  enough  he  wants  me  to  go 
abroad  instead  of  some  one  else." 

"Abroad?"  echoed  Agnes. 

"To  London  first,  and  in  fact  I  shall  be  there 
most  of  the  time,  unless  I  put  in  a  few  weeks  for 
pleasure  somewhere  else." 

"  I  suppose  it  seems  a  little  thing  to  you,"  she 
said,  clasping  her  small  hands  together  because  they 
trembled,  and  hoping  that  her  voice  was  steady. 

"  That  is  the  rub;  for  staying  at  home  means  bet- 
ter things  nowadays.  I  am  settling  into  a  steady- 
going,  peaceable  citizen." 

"  But  you  need  not  be  a  prodigal  just  because  of 
the  '  far  country,'  especially  as  your  father  sends 
you,"  said  Agnes,  her  heart  getting  so  heavy,  she 
thought  she  might  be  wickedly  perverting  Scripture. 

"Certainly  not;  but  the  prodigal  took  every- 
thing he  valued  with  him;  friends  did  not  count  for 
much  to  him  until  later;  but  I  happen  to  appre- 
ciate mine." 

"  You  will  make  new  ones  there." 


28  EUNICE    LATHKOP,    SPINSTER. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  not  actually  die  of  nostalgia,  if  I  do 
not  see  the  Massachusetts  hills;  but  I  don't  like 
London.  I  find  it  most  like  a  damp  old  mausoleum 
full  of  somebody's  else  dead  ancestors." 

It  comforted  Agnes  that  he  did  not  anticipate  the 
future  more  eagerly.  Meanwhile  Rushmore  furtive- 
ly watched  her  sensitive  face.  He  said  to  himself 
that  if  he  saw  therein  poignant  regret  or  bewilder- 
ment at  what  might  seem  like  a  desertion  on  his 
part — he  would  be  careful — he  would  save  her  from 
herself.  Perhaps  if  he  could  not  refrain  from  it,  he 
would — well,  how  could  he  tell  what  he  might  do, 
until  he  saw  her  eyes  and  her  cheeks  ?  If  he  thought 
her  a  transparency,  he  was  in  error.  She  sat  cool  as 
a  lily.  He  was  a  little  surprised,  just  a  little  piqued, 
that  no  maidenly  emotion  even  tempted  him  to  be 
less  than  wise.  Well,  if  it  were  all  friendship — as 
he  meant  it  to  be,  he  could  safely  and  justifiably  go 
farther. 

"  Miss  Agnes,  I  have  always  told  you  that  I  am 
selfish.  I  am  going  to  prove  it  to  you  now;  but  I 
will  be  honest  first.  I  write  the  stupidest  letters 
ever  put  on  paper.  I  never  wrote  to  a  friend  who 
did  not,  little  by  little,  as  he  thought  I  could  bear 
it,  tell  me  there  was  never  anything  in  them.  If  he 
did  it  hoping  I  could  put  something  in  afterwards, 
how  he  must  have  been  grieved  !  But  if  you  will 


ONE    YEAR.  29 

only  talk  to  me  on  paper  onc/e  in  a  while,  I  will  do 
my  best,  even  if  I  have  to  buy  a  work  on  the  art  of 
elegant  correspondence  and  read  it.  Could  a  human 
being  do  more  ?  Tell  me  anything — the  bloodless 
fray  going  on  in  the  study,  or  how  you  get  along 
with  Goethe,  will  you  ? " 

"  Yes.  I  like  to  write  letters.  When  I  was  a 
child  I  had  imaginary  friends  whose  letters  came 
fluttering  into  my  window.  I  enjoyed  them  as 
much  as  if  I  had  not  put  them  out  there  for  the 
purpose." 

"That  was  a  fine  thought.  I  am  generous  enough 
to  let  you  send  an  answer  with  your  letters  to  me," 
laughed  Rushmore.  "  It  might  double  my  pleas- 
ure and  yours.  If  not — well,  let  me  see,  I  will  go 
to  the  races  and  describe  them  in  detail.  Such 
letters  you  may  read  to  your  father  in  pauses 
of  his  sermon  composition.  His  knowledge  of  the 
devil  is  out  of  proportion  to  his  knowledge  of  the 
world." 

John  Irving  in  the  library  tossed  aside  the  Con- 
cise Ecclesiastical  History  that  he  was  trying  to 
read  backward,  glanced  out  at  Agnes,  then  at  the 
Rev.  Bela,  much  wondering  if  the  latter  would  wel- 
come as  a  son-in-law  this  handsome  Rushmore.  At 
present  he  was  quoting  St.  Athanasius  and  Isidorus 
quite  regardless  of  his  daughter;  but  John  was  real- 


30  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

izing  that  he  himself  had  been  a  "  slow  fool."  He 
appeared  so  grave,  the  parson  began  to  address  him 
instead  of  his  versatile  father. 

"The  Septuagint  often  translates,"  said  Bela, 
"  the  words  of  the  original  which  signify  it  is  rea- 
sonable or  fit  and  it  is  unreasonable  or  unfit  by  words 
which  answer  to  these:  'tis  thine,  'tis  mine  and  'tis 
not  mine,  'tis  not  thine." 

John  appropriated  the  quotation  with  a  sort  of 
wild  eagerness  very  flattering.  How  could  the  min- 
ister know  he  was  longing  to  shout  into  the  parlor: 
"'Tis  not  thine!  'Tis  mine!"  or  any  other  words 
sacred  with  all  a  man's  heart  put  into  them — that 
Rushmore  might  draw  back  from  Agnes's  life  and 
love. 

"  She  cannot  be  to  him  what  she  is  to  me,"  he 
thought;  "and  so  indeed  it  is  not  'reasonable  or 
fit.'" 

There  had  been  time  enough  and  he  had  lost  it. 
He  had  bestowed  upon  Agnes  something  of  the  ad- 
oration of  a  be-addled  mediaeval  minnesinger — only 
doing  that  in  silence,  not  with  love  awakening  songs. 
Now  when  a  nineteenth  century  man  came  with  a 
commonsense  passion,  he  had  only  to  tell  her  he 
loved  her  and  she  was  probably  won. 

John  rose  suddenly,  saying:  "I  am  going  home, 
father,  but  I  won't  hurry  you." 


ONE    YEAR.  31 

€ 

"I  must  go  this  moment,"  cried  Peleg,  flying  about 
for  his  hat,  putting  on  the  ministerial  one,  saying  it 
"compressed  his  brain,"  seizing  John  in  a  fussy  way, 
and  assisted  by  him  out  of  the  low  window,  departing 
at  last. 

The  minister  then  betook  himself  to  the  parlor 
and  soon  learned  that  Mr.  Rushmore  was  going  to 
leave  town.  Seated  erect  in  his  own  stiff-backed 
chair  he  talked  crisply  of  the  advantages  of  travel 
in  general,  and  referred  to  particular  localities  with 
the  slight  awe  of  one  who  has  not  himself  found  out 
that  European  flies  often  walk  bottom  upwards  just  as 
ours  do.  When  Rushmore  rose  to  go,  the  Rev.  Bela 
wished  him  success  in  such  a  "  human  "  manner,  as  Car- 
lyle  calls  it,  that  the  young  gentleman  fancied  the 
minister  might  be  glad  for  some  reason  that  he  was 
going  from  Waldenton.  He  was  glad.  He  approved 
of  Rushmore  as  a  gentleman,  able  to  speak  of  hav- 
ing had  a  grandfather,  if  need  be,  but  his  easy  bon- 
homie was  often  too  much  like  levity,  and  Agnes  was 
a  simple  soul,  who  might  be  easily  charmed  with 
fancies  of  a  world  outside  the  parsonage,  a  world  of 
which  the  less  she  knew  the  better.  He  had  thought 
of  this  danger  a  day  or  two  before,  and  took  much 
credit  to  himself  for  being  astute  enough  to  appreci- 
ate it.  Now  that  Rushmore's  going  away  was  re- 
solved upon  he  almost  felt  as  if  he  had  arranged  the 


32  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

affair  and  that  its  predestination  reflected  honor 
»  upon  his  paternal  long-headedness. 

Agnes  going  to  her  room  that  night  could  herself 
think  of  nothing  but  Rushmore's  new  plans.  She  had 
been  satisfied  when  he  was  present  with  her  or  not  far 
away,  had  not  asked  for  more  than  his  presence,  had 
never  held  herself  expectant  of  new  demonstrations 
of  his  friendship.  But  if  he  went  away  what  would 
be  left  but  her  faith  in  him — her  beautiful  ideal  of 
him  ?  She  stood  by  the  window  toward  the  church, 
the  shadow  of  whose  tower  fell  dark  on  her  chamber 
floor.  How  lonely  it  would  be  when  he  did  not  come 
to  play  the  organ  !  All  at  once,  through  the  sway- 
ing vines,  came  low  music.  Her  eyes  filled  with 
happy  tears. 

"  Daughter,"  called  the  Rev.  Bela,  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs,  "  does  not  the  young  man  know  that  this 
is  no  hour  to  be  practising  !  Will  he  be  long,  do 
you  think  ? ' 

"  I  cannot  tell,  father." 

"  Carrying  a  light  into  the  organ  loft  is  very 
thoughtless.  I  believe  I  will  go  and  put  a  stop  to 
it  all." 

A  moment  after,  he  crept  through  the  shadows  of 
the  graveyard,  himself  like  a  black  spectre,  and  was 
lost  in  the  deep  porch.  The  star  of  light  in  an  oriel 
window  vanished  and  the  music  ceased.  Agnes  let 


ONE    YEAR.  33 

down  her  white  curtain,  knowing  that  there  were 
other  and  rosier  radiances,  more  melodious  echoes, 
not  to  be  suppressed  with  a  word. 

One  morning  soon  after  the  unfinished  serenade 
Rushmore  came  to  say  good-by  to  the  parson  and 
to  his  daughter.  The  former  in  his  study-coat  of 
green,  its  tail  plainly  used  as  a  pen-wiper,  came  to 
the  porch.  Agnes,  white  and  dainty,  said  a  little 
primly,  "  I  hope  you  will  have  a  pleasant  voyage, 
Mr.  Rushmore" — and  stopped;  her  sensitive  lip  be- 
gan to  tremble  while  she  smiled.  When  the  minis- 
ter remarked,  "We  shall  remember  you  in  our  pray- 
ers," perhaps  he  meant  for  once  only,  but  Rushmore 
did  not  even  hear  him.  He  saw  instead  a  light  flash 
from  Agnes's  eyes  as  beautiful  as  if  shattered  in 
breaking  through  a  tear.  He  pressed  her  hand  ten- 
derly and  was  gone,  stopping  only  to  pluck  an  ole- 
ander blossom. 

She  leaned  against  the  porch  a  little  while,  watch- 
ing white  butterflies  cluster  on  a  nodding  purple 
thistle-top.  Her  father  in  an  equally  preoccupied 
way  addressed  the  distant  hills:  "A  companionable 
summer  friend.  Now  here,  now  off.  Perhaps  it  is 
well  for  him  to  go;  our  life  lies  one  way,  his  quite 
another,"  then  drawing  his  quill  from  behind  his 
ear,  he  returned  to  an  exposition  of  ancient  Cer- 
inthianism. 


34  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

Now  if  the  Rev.  Bela  can  put  a  theological  era 
into  a  page  or  two,  a  story-teller  can  condense  the 
events  of  a  year  into  a  shorter  narration.  New  Eng- 
land girls  like  Agnes  never  obliterate  themselves 
from  unrequited  love,  provided  their  lungs  are  heal- 
thy; hers  were  of  the  soundest. 

Often  when  John  Irving  went  past  the  parsonage 
he  saw  her  filling  her  hands  with  the  flowers  grow- 
f*ng  wherever  the  patches  of  sunlight  could  extinguish 
the  church  shadows.  Once  he  listened  to  her  sing- 
ing while  she  beautified  the  severe  parlor  with  the 
gay  blossoms — singing  the  old-fashioned  hymns  that 
came  to  her  lips  as  naturally  as  opera  airs  to  gayer 
maidens: 

"Be  thou,  ray  heart,  still  near  my  God, 
And  Thou,  my  God,  be  near  my  heart." 

"Good  !"  murmured  Irving,  uncovering  his  head. 
"If  I  only  knew  that  your  heart  was  not  concerning 
itself  with  any  lower  love,"  and  he  took  comfort  in 
the  hope  that  he  had  been  jealous  without  reason. 

The  minister  also  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he 
had  been  unduly  alarmed.  One  day  (he  was  in  a 
course  of  sermons  on  early  heresies,  and  busy  just 
then  with  the  Nicolaites)  Agnes  came  in  with  an 
open  letter,  saying,  "  Mr.  Rushmore  has  written  to 
me,  father." 


f 
ONE    YEAR.  35 

"  Indeed  !     Was  that  necessary— or  desirable  ? " 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  from  him." 

She  put  it  over  the  heresies  and  he  perused  it  sol- 
emnly— chiefly  Rushmore's  notes  on  shipboard,  his 
arrival,  a  brief  trip  to  Paris,  something  of  French 
politics,  a  day  in  the  Salon,  too  many  horrible  pic- 
tures there,  six  murders  of  Marat.  Would  she  please 
get  a  ministerial  opinion  of  the  size  of  the  Bibli- 
cal serpents  that  bit  the  children  of  Israel.  He  had 
not  supposed  them  anacondas.  Dore  evidently  does, 
etc.,  etc.  The  parson  uncovered  the  Nicolaites  with 
a  scornful  sniff. 

"  Letters  fly  over  the  world  now  like  chaff  before 
the  wind  and  are  as  worthless.  I  have  some  of  my 
father's  yet,  big  sealed  sheets,  heavy  with  thought 
#s  well  as  paper.  However,  child,  I  am  pleased  to 
see  this.  Now  will  you  go  over  to  the  church  and 
see  if  I  left  last  Sunday's  notes  in  the  pulpit  drawer  ? 
I  want  them." 

Agnes  assented  instantly,  glad  to  be  alone.  She 
had  been  cooling  her  cheek  on  the  leather  of  his  tall 
chair-back,  now  she  went  speedily. 

The  notes  were  there,  but  she  was  not  in  equal 
haste  to  return  with  them.  The  dim,  soft-tinted 
place  was  pleasant  to  dream  in.  She  crossed  her 
arms  in  the  depths  of  the  pulpit  cushion  and  looked 
toward  the  organ-loft.  If  he  were  not  there  he  was 


36  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

just  as  truly  sending  waves  of  thought  to  her,  and 
that  too  when  there  was  nothing  to  remind  him  of 
her,  away  in  foreign  lands.  The  letter  meant  that, 
whatever  her  father  read  in  it  or  found  lacking.  She 
drew  it  out  again  and  bowed  her  head  over  it,  won- 
dering what  he  was  doing  that  day — how  the  objects 
about  him  looked;  being  in  such  a  good  place  her- 
self, she  prayed  a  little  for  him.  Could  she  have 
had  the  new  sense  which  psychologists  promise  (with 
perhaps  the  assurance  of  Luther  in  telling  his  dog 
of  a  golden  tail  that  awaited  him  in  the  resurrection), 
she  might  that  moment  have  discovered  Rushmore 
smoking  outside  a  bright  cafe  watching  the  elegant 
ladies  on  their  way  for  a  drive  in  the  Bois  de  Bou- 
logne. He  was  lazily  smiling  at  a  friend  and  the 
mention  of  the  Jardin  Mabille.  Why  not  ?  One 
may  be  fastidious  in  Massachusetts  and  happy-go- 
lucky  in  Paris.  He  thought  frequently  of  Agnes, 
puzzled  himself  how  to  write  to  her.  At  the  end  of 
the  year  he  was  no  nearer  to  her  geographically  or 
any  other  way. 

John  Irving  meanwhile  had  time  but  no  encour- 
agement to  press  his  suit.  He  was  too  shy  and  re- 
served to  make  courtship  an  easy  matter,  even  if 
Agnes  could  have  been  courted;  but  when  he  went 
to  the  parsonage  he  saw  her — and  the  Rev.  Bela. 
He  went  to  church  with  exemplary  regularity,  had 


ONE    YEAR.  37 

always  a  word  or  a  smile  from  her.  Often  he  walked 
across  the  yard  with  her,  but  that  brief  passage 
through  the  tombs  was  all  too  short  for  sentiment. 
His  heart  was  not  altogether  faint,  but  his  efforts 
came  to  be  so,  and  an  instinct  to  be  trusted  told 
him  that  no  fair  lady  was  ever  so  inaccessible  who 
would  have  a  lover  ardent — or  would  have  him  for 
a  lover  at  all. 


CHAPTER   III. 

Persuading  a  Spinster. 

OLD  Jesse  Leigh  had  been  dead  six  months, 
when  John  Irving,  acting  as  one  of  his  exe- 
cutors fell  on  trouble,  or  at  least  perplexity,  the 
cause  of  which  will  be  explained  presently.  The 
old  gentleman  had  been,  in  his  day,  a  very  wealthy, 
influential  man.  He  had  given  to  Waldenton  a  pub- 
lic library.  The  architect,  chosen  to  carry  out  his 
ideas,  was  John  Irving,  whom  he  came  to  value 
highly  as  a  man  of  good  principles  and  sound  com- 
mon sense.  It  was  not  strange  that  later  he  en- 
trusted largely  to  him  the  management  of  his  estate 
and  had,  at  his  death,  left  many  other  matters  to  his 
personal  oversight. 

The  Leigh  homestead  was  on  the  heights,  archi- 
tecturally it  resembled  a  big  white  china  match-box; 
but  Nature,  with  vines  and  trees  kindly  struggled  to 
hide  its  glaring  paint  and  drape  its  angles.  Within, 
it  had  great,  cool  rooms  whose  furniture  a  very  lit- 


PERSUADING    A    SPINSTER.  39 

tie  use  kept  from  moth  and  rust.  No  one  occupied 
the  house  after  the  owner's  death,  save  the  one-eyed 
housekeeper — a  gigantic  creature,  capable  of  defend- 
ing a  castle. 

Irving  was  a  middle-town  man  and  there  were 
jealous  people  who  accused  him  of  having  been  up- 
lifted by  old  Mr.  Leigh's  "patronage" — but  that  last 
was  not  a  word  John  would  have  recognized.  In 
life  the  old  man  had  liked  him,  needed  him,  come  at 
last  to  lean  heavily  upon  him. 

One  evening  old  Peleg  Irving,  who  was  enjoying 
his  paper  by  the  supper  table,  heard  John  sigh. 
Beaming  over  his  eyeglasses,  he  asked:  "Anything 
going  wrong  ? " 

"  I  am  bothered  to  find — a  woman." 

"  In  Massachusetts,  John  !  " 

"  Yes,  just  the  right  sort  of  one." 

"  To  love,  honor  and  cherish,  my  son." 

"  No — not  your  son  at  all,  father.  I  want  her  for 
somebody  else.  This  daughter  of  Mr.  Leigh's  ought 
by  good  rights  to  be  home  to-day.  He  provided  for 
her  return  before  he  died,  but  there  was  a  delay  on 
the  part  of  the  people  she  was  to  travel  with.  At 
the  last  he  wanted  me  to  send  some  one  from  Wal- 
denton  for  her — a  lady,  old  and  sensible  enough  to 
be  a  proper  companion.  Where  shall  I  find  her  ? " 

"The  town  must  be  full  of  just  such  persons." 


40  '  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

"Not  by  any  means.  I  want  one  finer  than  a 
lady's  maid;  but  one  without  troublesome  family 
ties,  so  that  if  Miss  Leigh  liked  her,  she  could  per- 
suade her  to  remain  with  her  when  she  came  back. 
That  old  Cyclopean  Mag  up  at  the  house,  is  no  fit 
housekeeper." 

Father  Peleg  tapped  his  nose  with  his  forefinger 
meditatively.  He  was  worth  a  dozen  like  John  in 
an  affair  of  this  sort.  His  interest  in  all  humanity 
kept  him  as  well  informed  as  the  census  taker.  After 
a  blink  or  two,  he  exclaimed:  "  Eunice  Lathrop." 

"  Capital  !     I'll  go  for  her  this  minute." 

"  Do — arid  next  time  you  want  a  woman,  John, 
even  a  nearer  one  yet  and  a  dearer,  don't  sit  sighing 
like  a  furnace,  but  tell  your  old  sire.  It  will  go  hard 
with  me  but  I  can  give  you  a  good  turn." 

Miss  Eunice  Lathrop  was  a  little  genteel  spinster, 
living  on  a  little  genteel  income.  She  was  a  friend 
of  Mrs.  Irving,  and  declared  by  Peleg  to  be  as  pretty 
and  spicy  as  a  Cinnamon  Pink.  When  this  night, 
John  was  ushered  into  her  parlor  he  bethought  him- 
self ruefully  that  she  might  refuse  to  leave  a  home 
that  was  perhaps  a  bower  of  delight  to  her.  A  mul- 
tiplicity of  foam-white  tidies  bubbled  up  over  the 
surface  of  her  sofas  and  chairs.  The  rainbow  para- 
sols of  grotesque  celestials  hung  from  her  gas  fix- 
tures, arabesques  of  autumn  leaves  meandered  artis- 


PERSUADING    A    SPINSTER.  41 

tically  around  the  hieroglyphics  of  presumably  pious 
texts,  and  all  surroundings  were  suggestive  of  a  fancy 
bazaar.  What  if  every  fern,  every  illumination,  every 
wretch  of  a  tidy  put  in  the  eloquent  plea  of  "  stay  at 
home  with  us,  Miss  Eunice  ! " 

Viciously  crushing  a  blue  sofa  cushion,  John 
awaited  her.  She  came  soon,  patting  her  curly 
hair,  exclaiming,  "  Good  evening.  Now  has  any- 
thing happened  at  home  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all.  I  came  to  make  a  proposal  to 
you,  Miss  Eunice  !  " 

She  laughed  outright,  but  blushed — as  did  John 
then. 

"  Why  now,  Mr.  Irving  !  That  is  much  worse  than 
the  chops  and  tomato  sauce  for  which  poor  Pick- 
wick had  to  suffer,  but  I  won't  prosecute  you — go 
right  on  with  -the  proposal !  " 

He  saw  her  seated  and  proceeded  to  tell  her  that 
Mr.  Leigh's  daughter  was  in  Switzerland.  She  was 
going  to  Paris  to  spend  a  few  weeks  with  friends, 
who  would,  when  her  visit  was  over,  see  that  she 
was  provided  with  company  as  far  as  London. 
Would  Miss  Lathrop  consent  to  cross  the  ocean, 
to  meet  her  in  London,  and  later  return  with  her  to 
America?  He  said  nothing  of  a  longer  companion- 
ship, that  the  two  ladies  would  decide  upon  accord- 
ing to  their  liking. 


42  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

"  Goodness  gracious  !  "  said  Miss  Eunice,  with  sol- 
emn emphasis,  when  he  had  ended, — and  as  John 
feared,  her  glance  was  toward  the  tidies  and  mutely 
questioning. 

He  hastened  to  explain:  "It  is  merely  a  few 
weeks'  trip  (though  you  can  make  it  longer),  a  voy- 
age that  people  find  delightful,  and  a  peep  at  the 
world  of  which  we  Waldenton  folks  know  very  lit- 
tle, I  suppose.  You  are  entirely  free,  are  leaving 
nothing  behind,  and  go  at  no  expense  to  yourself." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  yourself,  Mr.  Irving  ?  " 

"  As  a  companion  for  a  young  lady  ?  She  will  be 
lonely  and  will  want  a  good  sensible  woman  for  a 
friend." 

"  Well,  I  would  about  as  soon  think  of  starting 
for  the  moon;  but  you  can  tell  me  everything  and 
I'll  go  to  work  and  cogitate.  Travelling  is  all  very 
fine,  but — Miss  Leigh  might  be  very  airy  and  full  of 
foreign  kinks.  I  don't  take  any  lady's  maid's  posi- 
tion, rest  assured  of  that." 

"  Certainly  not.  I  never  thought  of  it  for  a  mo- 
ment, I—" 

"  And  I  don't  admit  for  a  moment  that  I  would 
go  anyway,  but  of  course  I  can  think  it  over." 

That  was  as  far  as  any  allurements  could  bring 
her.  John  racked  his  brain  to  leave  behind  him 
temptations  strong  enough  to  counteract  the  pro- 


PERSUADING    A    SPINSTER.  43 

tests  of  the  Lares  and  Penates;  but  when  he  went 
away  he  hardly  dared  hope  that  his  errand  had  been 
successful.  He  resolved  to  go  home  and  beg  his 
mother  to  aid  him  in  persuading  Miss  Lathrop. 

Mrs.  Irving  was  a  shy,  quiet  woman,  in  society 
suspected  of  dulness.  She  was  tall  and  colorless; 
her  picture  painted  on  a  golden  panel  and  somewhat 
idealized  by  the  painter  would  have  had  the  sombre 
loveliness,  the  attenuated  refinement  of  an  early 
fifteenth-century  Madonna.  As  it  was,  the  neigh- 
bors merely  said  she  could  be  trusted,  and  it  was 
only  in  John's  heart  she  had  the  golden  background 
and  was  the  mother  worthy  of  all  honor. 

Several  days  passed  and  no  word  coming  from 
Miss  Lathrop,  John  begged  his  mother  to  go  and 
see  if  any  adverse  influence  was  at  work;  but  she 
advised  him  to  wait  patiently.  She  understood  how 
Miss  Eunice  must  take  time  to  think,  to  lie  awake 
nights,  to  resolve  she  never  would  think  again  of 
the  wild  project — no,  never!  True  enough,  the  fifth 
day  Miss  Eunice  appeared.  She  looked  quite  pale 
as  she  walked  sedately  into  the  parlor  and  ex- 
claimed, in  answer  to  Mrs.  Irving's  gentle  greeting: 
"  Oh,  why  didn't  you  keep  that  son  of  yours  away 
from  me  ?  Since  Tuesday  evening  I  have  endured 
everything.  I  have  stirred  Europe  into  my  tea.  I 
have  read  London  all  over  my  Bible.  I  have  been 


44  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

sick  and  died  on  ship-board.  I  have  been  wrecked 
with  ten  men  on  a  raft  or  something,  and  we  starved 
until  we  ate  our  leather  boots.  I  have  heard  of  such 
things  really.  Once  I  was  not  wrecked,  but  reached 
London  to  be  lost  and  have  my  pocket  picked. 
,  Miss  Leigh  proved  to  be  a  hateful  creature  and  I 
wept  with  homesickness  !  I  can't  go  anyway  !  " 

"John  will  be  very  sorry,"  said  Mrs.  Irving;  but  rea- 
soning that  Miss  Eunice  would  not  wring  her  hands 
and  sigh  so  vigorously  over  a  matter  quite  decided. 

"  Such  an  undertaking  for  a  quiet  body  too,  as 
just  the  getting  ready  would  be  !  " 

"Oh,  I  think  not!" 

"  Yes,  it  would  be  I  know.  One  tells  me  to  take 
next  to  nothing  and  another  fits  me  out  as  if  I  were 
a  caravan  crossing  the  desert  of  Sahara.  Mrs.  Chi- 
chester  says  that  when  she  went  over  last  year  she 
sat  whole  days  on  deck  in  a  steamer  chair  with 
three  rubber  water  bags — one  hot  at  each  foot  and 
one  at  the  small  of  her  back,  or  maybe  the  pit  of 
her  stomach — I  forget  which.  On  her  head  she  wore 
a  woollen  hood  for  warmth,  a  big  straw  hat  for  shade, 
a  green  veil  and  blue  goggles — yet  in  spite  of  all 
that  she  was  deathly  sick.  Think  of  such  an 
experience  ! " 

"  It  might  not  be  yours,"  said  Mrs.  Irving  cheer- 
fully. 


PERSUADING    A    SPINSTER.  45 

Miss  Lathrop  gazed  about  the  neat,  cool  room, 
adding  pensively,  "  But  she  talked  as  if  the  ship  went 
plunging  on  end  all  the  way  across,  its  mizzenmast 
mostly  horizontal,  and  everybody's  stomach  at  an 
angle  of  forty-five  degrees;  but  perhaps  it  isn't  in- 
variably so." 

"  Certainly  not.  Travelled  people  do  exaggerate. 
Don't  you  do  so,  Eunice,  when  you  come  back." 

"You  see  if  I  do — that  is  if  I  go.  Would  you  go, 
in  my  place  ?  " 

"I  would.  It  will  be  something  to  remember  as 
long  as  you  live.  Women  like  us  know  little  of 
what  is  outside  our  town  limits." 

"  Yes,  that  is  a  temptation,  I  confess.  I  need  to 
have  my  ideas  enlarged.  What  will  Waldenton 
folks  say  ?  If  I  thought  it  would  ever  occur  to  them 
I  did  not  go  simply  for  my  own  satisfaction,  I  would 
never  stir  one  inch.  It  is  all  very  well  to — to — ac- 
commodate the  Leigh  estate  that  John  talked  about, 
but  I  don't  ask  it  to  send  me.  I  can  stay  at  home  in 
ease." 

"  Every  one  knows  that,  Miss  Lathrop." 

"  It  is  nothing  very  great  for  me  either  !  The 
Rutherfords,  on  mother's  side,  you  remember,  trav- 
elled far  and  wide.  London  was  nothing  to  them," 
she  loftily  affirmed. 

"  Well,  suppose  you  wait  until  John  comes  in,  and 


46  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

after  tea  you  can  talk  the  matter  over  more  expli- 
citly," suggested  Mrs.  Irving  guilefully. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  I  can;  but  my  heart  beats  like  a 
trip  -  hammer  !  You  would  not  believe  anything 
could  excite  me  so, — and  he  takes  it  as  coolly  as  if 
it  were  a  trifle  to  be  settled  in  half  an  hour." 

Nevertheless  she  stayed,  talked  to  young  Irving, 
and  before  she  went  home  she  had  agreed  to  make 
ready  at  once  to  go  for  Miss  Leigh.  Her  consent 
given,  John's  mind  was  at  rest.  He  knew  Miss  La- 
throp  to  be  shrewd  as  well  as  innocent,  and  he  felt 
assured  she  would  do  her  duty  conscientiously,  at 
the  same  time  trying  her  best  to  be  a  safe  and 
agreeable  companion  to  her  young  charge. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

Mrs.  Cudlip's  Mansion. 

LIKE  one  particularly  lively  ant  among  a  thou- 
sand more  running  every  way  was  Miss  Eu- 
nice Lathrop  on  the  London  pavement  one  mug- 
gy June  afternoon.  When  she  cried  energetically, 
"  Stop,  sir  !  stop,  sir  !  "  to  the  impersonal  great  yel- 
low omnibus  bound  for  the  Tottenham  Court  Road, 
something  in  the  spread-eagle  course  of  her  hand 
through  the  air — or  perhaps  her  ignorance  that  the 
omnibus  always  halted  just  where  she  was  now  en- 
treating it  so  to  do,  as  a  personal  favor — one  thing 
or  the  other  made  the  man  who  helped  her  to 
scramble  into  a  seat  aware  that  she  was  an  alien, 
probably  an  American.  Nobody  supposed  that  the 
young  lady  who  followed,  making  haste  slowly,  was 
her  companion.  When  the  two  were  neatly  packed 
into  place  and  Miss  Lathrop  had  learned  that  she 
paid  her  fare  according  to  the  amount  of  road  covered, 
she  was  for  a  while  wholly  occupied  with  the  sights 


48  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

and  sounds  of  the  London  streets.  A  robust  Briton 
opposite  her  remarked  that  a  church  which  they 
passed  was  St.  Martin's  in  the  Fields,  and  she  longed 
to  express  her  surprise  at  its  pastoral  name  "right 
here  in  Bedlam,  as  you  might  say."  But,  after  learn-, 
ing  that  the  mounted  soldiers  half  way  out  of 
smoke  houses  were  the  "  Hoss  Guards,"  she  turned 
back  to  study  the  young  lady  whom  she  had  met 
only  an  hour  before.  She  found  her  very  pretty  in  a 
not  common  style;  her  complexion  was  like  a  trans- 
lucent shell  in  tint,  her  hair  a  silky  straw-color, 
small  Greek  head,  but  a  firm  chin  and  dark-blue  gray 
eyes,  with  nothing  baby-fied  about  features  or  ex- 
pression. She  in  her  turn  had  been  watching  Miss 
Eunice,  with  some  mischievous  dimples  coming  and 
going. 

"I  am  not  one  bit  sure  this  is  the  right  way," 
whispered  the  elder  lady;  "though  I  thought  I  was 
when  we  started;  but  you  see  there  are  no  end  of 
names  they  told  me  to  remember  at  the  hotel — Eu- 
ston  and  Hempstead  Road — Portland  Station,  Re- 
gent's Park,  above  all,  Fitzroy  Square  !  I  really  feel 
nervous." 

She  proved  it  by  protesting  against  getting  out 
when  the  man  at  the  door  told  her  she  had  "got 
there." 

"  Got  where,  sir  ?  " 


MRS.    CUD LIP1 S   MANSION.  49 

"  Why,  here,  marm — near  there  where  you  want 
to  go  !  " 

Miss  Leigh  stepped  down  without  any  ado  and 
asked  a  policeman  the  way  to  Fitzroy  Square. 

"Three  minutes'  walk!"  exclaimed  Miss  Lathrop 
echoing  his  answer.  "  Why  don't  they  measure  land 
properly,  and  not  tell  distance  by  time?" 

"We  could  have  taken  a  hansom  from  the  hotel," 
suggested  Miss  Leigh. 

"Yes,  only  when  I  can't  expostulate  with  a  driver 
and  tell  him  how  to  go  I  feel  run  away  with  like 
John  Gilpin;  besides,  a  stage  seems  more  social." 

"  And  we  Americans  are  always  social,  or  sup- 
posed to  be,"  laughed  Miss  Annie. 

"Why, you  are  an  American  !  It  seems  as  if  you 
could  not  be;  but  I  am  glad,  for  really  I  do  not  be- 
lieve I  shall  like  these  'tuppence  ha'penny'  talking 
English,"  chattered  Miss  Lathrop,  as  she  tripped 
along,  satisfied  with  herself,  conscious  that  she  was 
seeing  the  world  to  an  extent  her  friends  at  home 
would  think  almost  alarming. 

"  Here  is  the  Portland  Road  Station!  We  have 
come  too  far,"  said  Miss  Leigh. 

"  Yes  ?  Then  we  will  go  back  !  Why,  here  is  a 
tomb-stone  cutter's  on  this  corner  !"  exclaimed  Miss 
Lathrop,  promptly  inserting  her  nose  in  the  iron 
railing  to  spell  out  items  about  Abigail  Kibbe,  con- 


50  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

sort  of  one  Potts— a  delay  unexpected  to  Annie, 
who  had  not  reflected  upon  people  who  like  to  read 
strangers'  epitaphs  or  addresses,  or  anything  not 
concerning  themselves.  Of  such  was  Miss  Lathrop, 
but  she  soon  removed  her  nose  and  turned  it  in 
the  direction  indicated.  They  went  down  a  short 
street  to  a  pretty  park  surrounded  with  good  houses 
that  had  been  better. 

"I  hope  that  this  Mrs.  Cudlip's  house  will  be 
comfortable.  I  engaged  board  here  before  I  sailed. 
Here,  Miss  Leigh,  it  must  be  this  yellow  stone  one  ! " 

They  rang  the  bell,  watched  for  a  moment  the 
watery  blue  sky  over  the  trees  in  the  old  square 
and  then  the  door  opened.  A  fat  madame  with 
rosy  cheeks,  melting  black  eyes,  a  faint  moustache 
and  a  patch  of  similar  soft  down  one  side  her  chin, 
stood  graciously  bowing  her  head,  whereon  perched 
a  lace  and  lavender  cap  knocked  awry  over  one  ear. 

"  Farrar  !  "  she  called.  "Show  the  ladies  their 
rooms  ! " 

A  spruce  maid  popped  out  of  the  near  dining- 
room  and  led  them  up  imposingly  dusty  stairs  to 
apartments  "just  back  of  the  drawing-room,"  as 
Mrs.  Cudlip  following,  serenely  explained.  While 
that  lady  lingered,  begging  them  to  make  known 
their  slightest  wish,  she  seemed  to  diffuse  an  at- 
mosphere through  which  the  place  appeared  pala- 


MRS.    CUD  LIP'S   MANSION.  51 

tial,  rather  than  otherwise.  When  she  departed, 
however,  Miss  Lathrop  ventured  to  remark  that 
Mrs.  Cudlip  herself  appeared  to  her  to  be  "  mussy." 

Miss  Annie  laughingly  hinted  at  the  visibly  undue 
curtailment  in  matters  of  detail  like  towels,  "water 
jars  "  and  candles. 

"  Folks  may  say  what  they  have  a  mind  to  about 
the  old  world,"  grumbled  Miss  Lathrop,  "  I  never 
should  like  it !  It  has  been  kept  too  long.  I  prefer 
to  live  in  a  new  clean  place.  Well  now,  dear  Miss 
Leigh,  do  take  off  your  bonnet  and  let  me  have  a 
long  look  at  you.  You  don't  resemble  your  father 
in  the  least." 

"Poor  father,"  answered  Annie,  her  eyes  filling 
with  tears.  "I  wanted  to  get  home  to  be  a  comfort 
to  him.  It  did  not  seem  right  that  I  should  know 
my  own  father  so  little,  but  he  wrote  me  always 
very  kind  letters." 

"Yes,  he  was  very  proud  of  you.  Mr.  Irving 
says  he  talked  all  the  time  of  your  being  a  fine 
scholar  and  all  that.  What  a  quantity  of  pretty  hair 
you  have !  It  makes  me  think  of  the  silk  that 
grows  on  ears  of  corn,"  said  Miss  Eunice,  anxious 
to  cheer  her  companion,  and  in  accordance  with 
this  desire  she  rattled  on:  "Do  you  suppose  this 
Cudlip  creature  will  have  anything  palatable  to  eat  ? 
They  need  not  say  pies  are  an  unwholesome  Yankee 


52  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

invention;  they  have  the  toughest  crusted  ones 
here,  and  call  them  tartlets,  never  sweet  enough, 
either." 

The  tall,  fair  girl  began  to  regard  the  busy  tongued 
spinster  with  naive  curiosity. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  yourself,"  said  Miss  Eunice, 
with  increased  vivacity. 

"  Don't  you  know  it  all  now  ? " 

"  Oh,  of  course,  I  know  that  when  you  were  twelve 
years  old  your  mother  died  on  a  tour  in  Switzerland 
and  your  father  left  you  to  study  in  some  little 
French  school,  that  is  all.  Do  you  remember  Amer- 
ica well  ? " 

"  Not  very,  I  was  only  nine  when  we  came  away." 

Miss  Lathrop  nodded,  arranged  her  collar  before 
the  mirror,  upbraided  the  nation  for  its  uncouth 
fashion  of  putting  dressing  tables  in  front  of  win- 
dows and  then  exclaimed,  "  I  wonder  how  Walden- 
ton  will  seem  to  you." 

"Pleasant,  no  doubt.  I  remember  a  long  garden 
full  of  rose  bushes.  It  seems  as  if  they  must  always 
have  been  in  bloom." 

Miss  Lathrop  determined  just  then  to  take  a  nap. 
Annie  watched  a  Punch  and  Judy  show  under  the 
window,  her  thoughts  now  in  the  past,  now  grasping 
at  the  future.  Her  father's  death  had  been  a  great 
disappointment  to  her,  but  not  a  close  fastening 


MRS.    CUDLIP'S   MANSION.  53 

grief.  She  had  come  over  the  shock  of  it  in  the 
weeks  past,  and  was  beguiled  into  fresh  enjoyment  of 
everything  interesting  about  her.  To  be  young  and 
to  be  in  Paris  she  had  found  delightful;  she  was  sim- 
ply what  she  seemed:  a  bright  unsophisticated  girl. 

Miss  Lathrop  dozed  off  under  the  tremendous 
purple  woollen  canopy  over  the  bed,  her  last  wak- 
ing thought  a  pleased  reflection  that  Annie  had 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  cautious,  sensible  woman 
of  her  own  vast  experience;  for  this  was  a  naughty 
world.  An  hour  later  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door, 
and  Farrar  asked  if  they  would  dine  with  the  family. 
The  ladies  whispered  together  for  a  moment,  and 
followed  her  down-stairs. 

As  they  entered  the  dining-room,  Mrs.  Cudlip 
beaming  upon  them,  seated  Miss  Leigh  at  her  right 
hand  and  Miss  Lathrop  at  her  left.  She  introduced 
to  them  her  niece,  Mrs.  Melton,  and  a  long-haired 
gentleman,  Mr.  Harrow,  but  did  not  introduce  an- 
other red-haired  person  known  as  Whitby.  Mrs. 
Melton  was  a  willowy  young  woman  with  large 
eyes,  she  was  rather  peculiarly  pretty — or  prettily 
peculiar,  it  puzzled  one  to  tell  which.  She  talked 
not  at  all,  leaving  that  privilege  to  her  aunt  and 
Mr.  Harrow,  whom  that  lady  referred  to  as  a 
scientist,  probably  falsely  so  called,  as  he  signally 
failed  to  sustain  the  charge.  Many  other  plates 


54  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

were  on  the  table  and  as  Mrs.  Cudlip,  with  a  dainty 
elegance  in  the  play  of  her  knife,  began  to  carve 
the  roast  that  followed  the  mild  soup,  she  alluded 
to  other  "guests,"  one  military,  one  belonging  to 
the  "Legation,"  another  a  Professor,  all  of  them 
evidently  more  or  less  distinguished,  but  each  out 
of  town  or  detained  elsewhere.  She  was  an  ad- 
mirable hostess.  Now  she  chattered  with  Miss 
Leigh  about  the  scarlet  poppies  and  the  blue  corn 
flowers  that  make  the  meadows  between  Amiens 
and  Boulogne,  "just  one  blaze  of  bewildering  glory," 
now  she  was  all  animation  as  she  propounded  to 
the  Scientist  a  little  theory  of  hers  regarding  the 
east  wind:  Undeniably  it  makes  people  cross,  why? 
It  dries  up  the  pores  of  the  skin,  exhausts  the 
natural  oil — and  hence  discomfort.  Mind  and  body 
mutually  act  and  react;  the  result  is  ill-humor — per- 
haps suicide,  murder  and  kindred  crimes  were  di- 
rectly caused  by  just  such  atmospheric  influences. 
The  Scientist  shook  his  flowing  hair  at  the  end  of 
the  table  where  he  sat  dining  on  parched  brown  bread 
crumbs  and  demurred  from  the  proposition.  He 
was  dyspeptic  as  well  as  scientific.  He  maintained 
that  the  east  wind  blows  over  regions  where  malaria 
and  other  noxious  things  exist;  in  its  capacity  of 
carrier  it  brings  them  along  and  distributes  im- 
partially. 


MRS.    CUD  LIP'S   MANSION.  55 

"Certainly,  my  dear  friend,  that  does  not  mili- 
tate against  my  proposition,  it  only  does  not  go  as 
far,  while  I  confess,  it  antedates  it,"  fluently  re- 
turned Mrs.  Cudlip. 

Miss  Lathrop  was  glad  they  had  fallen  among 
intelligent  people  who  seemed  as  gifted  conversa- 
tionally as  if  they  had  been  Boston  persons,  never- 
theless she  would  have  liked  a  bit  more  of  the  roast, 
having  been  helped  very  delicately.  It  seemed 
almost  gross,  however,  to  interrupt  Mrs.  Cudlip, 
whose  eyes  were  sparkling  and  who  had  laid  aside 
her  carving  knife.  While  they  awaited  Farrar  and 
the  next  course,  the  new-comers  took  note  of  the 
china  which  was  unique,  every  dish  odd,  chipped  or 
knock-kneed.  The  "  curly  greens  "  were  passed  in  tu- 
reens so  cemented  they  recalled  to  Annie  the  "im- 
perfectly restored  "  statues  in  the  Louvre,  but  Miss 
Lathrop  found  the  table,  as  a  whole,  almost  imposing. 
There  was  an  air  about  Mrs.  Cudlip  herself  of  unex- 
pressed— yes,  repressed  importance,  a  quiet  reliance 
on  one's  faith  in  her,  in  the  very  way  she  suggested 
the  taking  of  more  salad,  when  one  could  see  the 
salad  was  quite  gone.  After  the  roast,  came  a 
rhubarb  tartlet  dulcified  with  brown  sugar  and  lack- 
ing a  bottom  crust.  The  east  wind  sprang  up  and 
blew  again  until  Mrs.  Cudlip  suddenly  made  a  digres- 
sion by  saying  something  that  the  New  England 


56  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

lady  found  more  shocking,  if  equally  scientific.  She 
said  that  far  from  advocating  in  any  wholesale  way 
the  oriental  custom  of  greasing  the  person — far  from 
that  as  she  was,  she  must  and  would  say  the 
Western  nations  had  gone  to  the  other  extreme  of 
cleanliness  and  used  too  much  soap  and  water. 
Could  not  the  Scientist  grant  her  that  to  bathe 
unduly  was  paradoxically  to  be  dried  up  externally, 
and  to  injure  one's  self  cutaneously  was  to  become 
internally  vicious — hence  again  the  argument  held 
good  for  suicides,  murders,  etc.  In  the  very  face  of 
the  revived  east  wind,  as  it  were,  Miss  Lathrop 
showed  she  did  not  believe  in  that  theory.  The 
Scientist  only  smiled  a  far-off  smile,  as  if  he  could  but 
would  not,  be  more  scientific  than  the  hostess,  and 
Mrs.  Cudlip  looked  benignantly  on  everybody  except 
the  red-haired  young  man  who  was  daring  to  make 
a  joke  about  wickedness  then  being  only  skin  deep. 

Mrs.  Melton  thought  this  a  good  time  to  speak. 
In  a  mellow,  pleasing  voice  she  said  she  would  like 
to  go  to  America. 

"  Then  I  have  not  a  doubt  but  some  day  you  will 
leave  me  desolate,"  cried  her  aunt,  waving  her  fat 
pretty  hand,  "for  a  thought  seed  once  fallen  into 
your  mind  invariably  germinates." 

"  I  shall  go  if  I  find  it  possible.  I  am  only  waiting 
for  an  opportunity — " 


MRS.    CUDLIP^S   MANSION.  57 

Miss  Lathrop  was  just  about  to  say  it  was  easy  to 
find  company,  if  that  was  her  meaning,  but  bethought 
herself,  in  time,  that  what  Mrs.  Melton  meant  was 
no  concern  of  hers;  then  Miss  Leigh  and  Mrs.  Mel- 
ton began  a  little  talk  together.  After  the  bread 
and  cheese  Mrs.  Cudlip  led  the  way  to  the  drawing- 
room  where  a  tiny  fire  burned  on  the  hearth.  Farrar, 
wearing  a  cap  modelled  after  her  mistress's  brought 
in  weak  tea  and  coffee,  which  Mrs.  Cudlip  poured, 
while  she  continued  her  gracious  attempts  at  enter- 
tainment. Mrs.  Melton,  after  a  brief  dialogue  with 
the  Scientist  outside  the  door,  came  in  and  sat  down 
again  by  Miss  Leigh.  She  wore  a  loose  crimson, 
robe  which,  if  negligently  arranged,  was  certainly 
graceful.  It  showed  all  her  movements  and  the 
warm  color  tinted  her  rather  colorless  skin. 

"  So  you  are  on  your  way  now  to  the  States  ?  Miss 
Leigh,  I  envy  you  !  It  will  be  delightful  to  begin  a 
new  life  in  a  new  place.  One  sometimes  has  to  do 
that  from  compulsion;  but  you,  I  fancy,  are  the  mis- 
tress of  your  circumstances,  not  pushed  by  them." 

"  Yes,  it  will  all  be  new  to  me,  and  yet  it  will  be 
home,"  answered  Annie. 

"  You  have  sisters  there  perhaps,  and  no  doubt 
many  relations,"  said  Mrs.  Melton,  not  in  the  least 
interrogatively,  but  Miss  Leigh  returned:  "Not  one, 
only  a  house  and  a  housekeeper,  although  Miss 


58  EUNICE    LATHROT,  SPINSTER. 

Lathrop,  this  friend  who  has  crossed  the  ocean  to 
meet  me,  she  will  probably  remain  with  me." 

"  That  will  be  very  nice,  I  am  sure,"  was  Mrs. 
Melton's  comment,  then  she  was  silent,  Annie  mean- 
while deciding  that  her  eyes  were  the  noticeable  fea- 
tures of  her  face.  They  were  of  a  deep  beautiful 
amber  color,  and  she  had  a  habit  of  contracting  the 
pupils,  drooping  their  lids  and  seeming  to  look  side- 
ways in  a  charming,  languid  fashion. 

"  You  will  stay  long  enough  in  London  to  see 
something  of  the  city.  It  is  a  great  old  curiosity 
shop." 

"  I  think  we  can  do  so.  I  have  not  had  time  yet 
to  talk  over  plans  with  my  friend." 

"  When  you  have  spoken  to  her,"  said  Mrs.  Mel- 
ton, with  a  winning  kindness  of  tone,  "  let  me  know 
the  days  or  weeks  you  allow  yourself  here  and  I 
shall  be  able  to  help  you.  If  one  does  not  know  just 
where  things  are,  and  the  shortest  routes  to  them, 
and  what  places  are  close  together,  one  wastes  an 
immense  amount  of  time  and  strength.  I  can  easily 
make  little  plans  for  your  daily  excursions,  if  you  will 
permit  me." 

"  You  are  exceedingly  kind,  and  I  know  we  will 
be  very  glad  of  such  help,"  said  Annie,  warmly. 

Mrs.  Cudlip  and  Miss  Lathrop  were  very  sociable 
on  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace.  The  asking  of 


MRS.    CUD  LIP'S   MANSION.  59 

questions  may  and  may  not  be  a  Yankee  proclivity. 
Miss  Eunice  asked  a  few,  but  later,  when  she  re- 
called all  the  information  she  had  received,  she  was 
sure  no  queries  of  hers  had  called  it  forth — in  fact, 
hers  had  filed  ofif  in  quite  other  directions  and  re- 
turned without  anything  to  show  for  their  trouble. 
As  for  Mrs.  Cudlip,  she  seldom  punctuated  her  con- 
versation with  interrogation  marks.  She  blandly 
assumed  all  doubtful  points  and  was  of  course  put 
right.  She  remarked  that  if  such  a  matter  were  not 
so — and  learned  that  it  was  thus.  Inuthis  perfectly 
well-bred  manner,  she  stored  up  treasures  of  knowl- 
edge. Occasionally  one  was  betrayed  into  deliver- 
ing up  to  her  keeping  that  which  it  would  have  been 
consummate  impudence  in  her  to  ask  for;  but  she 
had  it  all  the  same. 

The  clock  struck  ten,  Miss  Lathrop  stifled  a  yawn 
and  Mrs.  Cudlip  begged  the  ladies  at  once  to  retire 
if  they  were  tired.  She  arose  and  sped  them  on  their 
way,  by  giving  to  each  a  candle  end  in  a  massive 
brass  candlestick.  After  a  moment  or  two  in  their 
own  rooms,  Miss  Eunice,  who  was  sitting  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed  tapping  the  faded  carpet  with  her 
slipper — ejaculated  nervously:  "  I  don't  know,  but 
I  have  done  a  proper  foolish  thing." 

"  Have  you  ? "  asked  Annie,  sympathetically. 
"Well  every  one  does  do  one  sooner  or  later." 


60  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  house,  Miss  Leigh  ?  " 

"Oh,  it  is  heavy  and  old,  not  very  neat — as  dif- 
ferent from  a  French  Pension  as — " 

"  As  London  probably  is  from  Paris.  Well  what 
about  Mrs.  Cudlip  herself?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Miss  Lathrop,  only  I  am  sure  that 
the  rosy  haired  young  man,  whom  she  did  not  intro- 
duce to  us,  wanted  another  slice  of  roast-beef,  but 
he  did  not  get  it." 

"  Neither  did  I  !  I  am  hungry  this  very  moment; 
but  she  says  she  was  a  Welsh  clergyman's  daughter, 
brought  up  in  the  utmost  refinement.  She  is  poor 
now;  I  respected  her  for  saying  so  when  she  keeps 
up  this  air  of  richness  (though  you  can't  see  it  any- 
where). By  the  way,  she  said  the  red-haired  young 
man  was  only  a  '  custard-monger,'  perhaps  she  looks 
down  on  him." 

Annie  looked  on  her  perplexed,  but  she  continued: 
"Well,  to  get  to  the  gist  of  the  matter,  this  Mrs. 
Melton,  her  niece,  is  a  widow  (she  does  not  wear 
black,  does  she  ?)  and  she  has  been  a  governess  to 
some  Lady  Somebody's  children.  Now  the  chil- 
dren are  going  to  Germany  to  school,  and  she  is  de- 
prived of  her  means  of  support.  You  heard  what 
she  said  of  America,  at  the  table;  she  is  very  anx- 
ious to  try  her  fortune  there.  Her  aunt  says  she 
can  speak  French,  embroider  beautifully,  teach  chil- 


MRS.    CUD  LIP'S   MANSION.  6 1 

dren.  She  would  even  go,  for  a  while,  as  a  half 
maid,  half  companion  to  a  real  lady.  It  struck  me 
the  aunt  was  thinking  of  you;  but  I  did  not  give  that 
a  thought.  We  know  nothing  of  Mrs.  Cudlip  or  of  her 
niece.  It  would  be  absurd  to  think  of  attaching  to 
us  a  person,  known  to  us  only  a  few  hours;  but  what 
I  did  do  was  to  listen,  while  her  aunt  explained  that 
the  niece  had  means  enough  to  take  her  to  America, 
to  support  her  a  short  time  while  she  looked  for  em- 
ployment, and  if  she  found  none,  to  pay  her  way 
back." 

"  Then  I  do  not  see  why  she  has  not  gone  before 
this,"  said  Annie,  uncoiling  her  long  hair. 

"  She  did  not  like  to  start  without  advice  or  com- 
pany. Well  now  Mrs.  Cudlip  came  right  out  boldly 
and  asked  if  I  supposed  she  could  get  work  in 
Waldenton." 

"What  did  you  tell  her?" 

"  The  plain  truth — that  she  might  and  she  might 
not.  She  asked  all  sorts  of  questions  about  Wai- 
den — no,  she  did  not  ask,  but  she  seemed  so  inter- 
ested, I  told  her  just  what  kind  of  a  place  it  was." 

Miss  Lathrop  tapped  her  foot  vigorously  and  pro- 
ceeded more  nervously, 

"Mrs.  Cudlip  proposed — that  is,  she  said  if  Mrs. 
Melton  approved  of  the  idea,  and  we  on  farther  ac- 
quaintance, were  favorably  impressed  by  her  niece 


62  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

— why  perhaps  she  might  go  back  with  me.  She 
was  particular  to  explain  she  meant  merely  to  have 
her  go  at  the  same  time,  we  taking  only  a  sort  of 
natural  interest  in  her  and  throwing  any  work  into 
her  hands  that  we  could  find  for  her  after  she  ar- 
rived. Have  I  been  hasty  in  consenting  to  that,  do 
you  think  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  her  chances  in 
Waldenton  for  support.  You  must  judge  of  that. 
Mrs.  Melton  herself  is  bright,  I  think,  and  interest- 
ing. We  would  certainly  be  kind  to  her — still  I  think 
as  you  do,  that  she  had  better  go  only  with  us,  not 
as  one  of  us.  I  should  not  like  or  respect  her,  if 
she  wished  to  attach  herself  to  us  on  such  short 
acquaintance." 

"  Precisely  so.  I  will  make  that  plain  to  the  aunt; 
but  to  cross  in  the  same  steamer,  to  get  work  in  the 
same  town  with  us  can't  be  in  any  way  unpleasant 
for  us,  can  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not.  I  don't  want  to  be  unsympa- 
thetic," returned  Annie  quickly. 

"  I  agree  with  you  exactly;  we  must  be  very  wise, 
not  committing  ourselves  to  anything  that  we  might 
regret  later.  Now  I  will  go  to  bed,  my  head  spins 
like  a  top.  What  choice  language  Mrs.  Cudlip  uses 
and  what  abominable  black  bread  she  gives  us.  I 
can't  like  it  in  her,  though,  not  giving  that  poor  'cus- 


MRS.    CUDLIP'S   MANSION.  63 

tard-monger '  enough  to  eat,  if  she  is  a  Welsh  cler- 
gyman's daughter.  But  I  should  judge  from  her  re- 
marks she  must  have  a  very  fine  class  of  boarders — 
when  they  are  all  here." 

Annie  laughed  out  so  merrily  that  Miss  Lathrop 
received  a  new  idea.  It  startled  and  impressed  her 
so  much  that  she  gave  her  young  companion  credit 
for  great  sagacity. 

"  Well !  well !  what  revelations  of  human  nature  a 
body  gets  just  by  travelling.  Why  I  fully  expected 
to  see  a  member  of  Parliament  come  walking  in  to 
dinner  some  night." 

"  Never  mind,  if  he  does  not  come  to  us,  we  will 
go  to  him.  Mrs.  Melton  can  show  us  the  way,  she 
says." 

Miss  Lathrop  was  too  sleepy  to  reply. 


CHAPTER    V. 

A    Sunday  at  Mrs.    Cudlip' s. 

MRS.  CUDLIP  arose  betimes  on  the  following 
morning,  which  was  Sunday,  and  sure  of 
seeing  no  inmate  of  the  house  not  on  duty,  she 
reconnoitred  the  place  in  negligent  attire.  Farrar 
was  laying  the  plates  for  breakfast  and  providing 
lavish  supplies  of  water-cresses.  Sordid  souls  might 
breakfast  at  Mrs.  Cudlip's  table,  for  a  season,  and 
depart  saying  that  the  rolls  were  black,  the  bacon 
too  fat  and  the  eggs  antique;  but  they  could  not  say 
she  ever  stinted  them  on  watery  greens.  Sometime 
they  surely  would  wonder  if  Mrs.  Cudlip  did  not 
raise  these  on  her  own  humid  premises,  over  the 
mouldy  doors,  under  the  eaves  or  among  the  chim- 
ney pots,  else  why  were  they  so  abundant  ?  This 
morning,  the  lesser  drab-haired  menial  under  Farrar, 
was  leaving  pots  of  hot  water  at  everybody's  door, 
and  in  general  the  affairs  of  the  house  were  well 
underway.  When  Mrs.  Cudlip  had  penetrated  the 


A    SUNDAY   AT  MRS.    CUDLIP'S.  65 

depths  of  the  earth  below  the  hall,  she  returne  \, 
bringing  in  her  garments  the  odor  of  hot  fat,  and 
in  her  hands  a  chop,  which  she  consumed  in  soli- 
tude. She  rarely  ate  at  the  "table  d'hote."  Her 
abstinence  might  have  a  mildly  subduing  influence 
on  robust  appetites,  while  it  left  her  free  to  indulge 
in  elegant  discourse.  After  her  repast  the  amiable 
lady  mounted  again  to  the  top  floor,  where  in  an 
unpretending  way,  Mrs.  Melton  abode.  She  rapped, 
then  entered  the  closet-like  chamber,  in  which  the 
younger  lady  was  dressing,  and  remarked:  "I  did  not 
have  a  chance  to  talk  to  you  last  night.  How  do 
you  like  these  Americans  ?  " 

"  I  never  like  such  women,  anyway.  The  young 
one  is  beautiful,  but  she  does  not  think  much  of 
it;  she  will  learn  she  has  a  pretty  face  soon  enough. 
The  other  is  an  innocent,  isn't  she  ? " 

"  Far  from  it  !  She  is  a  single-minded  creature, 
but  she  is  nobody's  fool." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  she  could  be  one,  if  anybody 
wanted  a  fool  of  about  her  height  and  complexion," 
returned  Mrs.  Melton  calmly. 

"You  did  not  talk  to  her,  and  I  did.  She  is 
agreeable  and  she  is  shrewd." 

"  Very,"  returned  the  young  widow,  winding  a 
coil  of  hair  about  her  head.  "  Very  shrewd  !  You 
shook  her  gently  as  you  would  .a  sieve,  and  the 


66  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

shower  of  information  stopped  when  the  shaking 
did,  not  before." 

"  I  only  drew  her  out  on  a  few  simple  matters, 
but  you  listened  then  and  know  all  we  said  ? " 

"No,  I  did  not  hear  half  the  conversation;  I 
was  entertaining  Miss  Leigh." 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  to  America,  or  is  it  only 
talk?" 

"  Now,  I  begin  to  mean  what  I  say." 

"Very  well,  I  thought  so;  and  this  is  my  con- 
versation with  Miss  Lathrop,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cud- 
lip  animatedly. 

The  younger  woman  listened,  without  emotion 
of  any  sort,  while  Mrs.  Cudlip  reported  the  dia- 
logue, ending  with  somewhat  of  a  rhetorical  flour- 
ish, although  in  general,  her  style  of  conversa- 
tion when  with  the  widow  was  quite  shorn  of 
ornament. 

"  Now  you  can  be  turning  this  over  in  your  mind 
from  the  first  of  their  being  here.  The  fact  is,  dear, 
you  have  the  rarest  talents,  if  only  you  had  a  fair 
field  for  their  exercise.  With  more  money,  or  a  fa- 
vorable start,  you  might  do  much  on  the  Continent, 
as  matters  are  with  you,  that  is  impossible.  Here 
you  are  cramped.  Your  own  peculiar — well  what 
the  Scientist  might  call  your  psychological  efflor- 
escence is — " 


A    SUNDAY  AT  MRS.    CUDLIP'S.  67 

"  Aunt  Sarah,  I  have  no  idea  of  living  on  you 
very  long;  don't  be  distressed  into  talking  nonsense. 
Besides  I  consider  that  I  have  paid  my  way  so 
far;  that  American  would  never  have  given  the  price 
he  has  for  his  room  after  he  found  your  table  did 
not  suit  him,  if  I  had  not  told  him  of  the  Swiss  j 
restaurant  here  by  the  Portland  Road  Station  and 
had  not  at  the  same  time,  been  ready,  to  tell  him 
all  about  the  city,  the  trains,  routes,  cabs  and  every- 
thing else." 

"  I  have  just  said  you  were  very  clever." 

"Well  I  know  what  you  mean,  of  course:  that  if 
I  am  so,  I  had  better  be  up  and  doing.  If  I  don't 
learn  to  detest  these  women, — or  if  I  do  and  can 
make  myself  valuable  to  them,  or  what  amounts  to 
the  same,  if  either  one  would  be  valuable  to  me,  I 
will  go  to  the  United  States.  Is  Miss  Leigh  from 
New  York  ? " 

"  No,  from  Waldenton.  It  is  not  far  from  Boston 
and  New  Orleans  I  believe." 

This  time  the  widow  showed  interest  and  surprise 
by  asking:  "Why  do  people  from  that  town  keep 
coming  here  ? " 

"  For  the  simplest  reason  in  the  world.  The  first 
who  ever  came,  five  years  ago,  said  New  England 
people  coming  to  London  would  go  to  a  cheap 
quiet  boarding  house  if  they  knew  of  one.  I  wrote 


63  EUNICE   LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

an  advertisement  to  a  Boston  paper;  and  I  renew 
it  every  year  early  in  the  season." 

"  Did  he  come  back  last  night  ? "  was  Mrs.  Mel- 
ton's next  question,  which  her  aunt  did  not  seem 
to  find  irrelevant. 

"  Yes." 

"  I  wonder  if  he  ever  heard  of  these  other  Amer- 
icans !  What  is  he,  do  you  think  ?  Not  a  trades- 
man I  am  sure." 

"  A  lawyer,  he  said  one  day;  he  has  money." 

"  And  very  good  taste.  The  day  he  went  to 
York,  he  reflected  that  I  was  good  looking.  I  stood 
in  the  door' to  see  that  the  man  did  not  lie  about 
the  distance  and  the  cab  to  the  station.  I  smiled 
on  him  and  he  discovered  I  was  not  Farrar." 

"  How  do  you  know  he  knew  the  difference,  and 
what  of  it  anyway  ? " 

"  If  I  look  pretty,  I  wish  it  known." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"  For  the  present,  yes,  and  probably  for  the  future; 
though  I  have  seen  rich  Americans  with  wives  who 
were  frights.  Yes,  I  will  go  if  there  seems  an 
opportunity." 

The  drab-haired  maid  called  outside  the  door 
for  Mrs.  Cudlip.  She  arose  from  a  wooden  tripod, 
which  with  a  venerable  chest  of  drawers  and  an 
iron  bedstead  modestly  furnished  Mrs.  Melton's  bou- 


A    SUNDAY  AT  MRS.    CUDLIP'S.  69 

doir.  She  (the  widow)  was  indeed  cramped,  lit- 
erally if  not  "  psychologically "  and  if  she  sighed 
for  a  whole  republic  in  which  to  expand,  there 
was  nothing  in  this  desire  derogatory  to  her  integ- 
rity. 

In  due  time  the  first  bell  rang,  and  Miss  Lathrop 
awaking  found  Miss  Leigh  dressed  and  at  the 
window. 

"Good  morning,"  the  latter  exclaimed.  "The 
sky  is  actually  a  lovely  pink  and  a  faint  blue,  as  if 
the  sun  could  rise  clear  over  London.  Perhaps  peo- 
ple slander  the  climate." 

"No,  they  don't,"  protested  Miss  Lathrop.  "I 
had  several  days'  experience  of  it  before  you  came." 

"  What  are  we  going  to  do  to-day  ?" 

"  I  shall  go  to  church,"  said  the  Massachusetts 
spinster  firmly;  but  she  looked  covertly  at  her 
young  friend,  fearful  that  she  might  have  some 
wicked  thought  of  Kew  Gardens  or  a  similar  Sab- 
bath-breaking excursion.  She  was  relieved  when 
Miss  Leigh  answered  sweetly,  "Certainly." 

At  the  breakfast  table  it  was  decided  that  they 
would  stay  at  home  until  after  lunch,  and  then,  ac- 
companied by  Mrs.  Melton,  they  would  go  to  West- 
minster Abbey  for  the  afternoon  service. 

The  morning  passed  quickly,  and  about  two  o'clock 
the  party  set  out;  on  arriving  at  the  Abbey  they 


70    .  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

found  they  were  none  too  early.  Miss  Leigh  and  Mrs. 
Melton  made  their  way  up  near  the  white-robed, 
sweet- voiced  choir  boys;  but  Miss  Lathrop  scarcely 
got  over  the  threshold.  Not  having  been  there  be- 
fore, she  was  greatly  impressed  by  the  remarkable 
appearance  of  the  place,  and  feared  if  it  were  going 
to  be  very  interesting  it  would  be  wrong  to  be  there 
on  a  Sunday.  She  seated  herself  on  a  cold  stone 
ledge  under  Pitt's  Monument  and  tried  conscien- 
tiously to  hear  the  service,  but  she  could  not.  That 
ended,  she  would  have  subdued  her  curiosity  and  re- 
turned to  Fitzroy  Square,  but  not  so  would  Miss 
Leigh.  The  young  lady  made  known  her  intention 
of  walking  quietly  about  such  parts  of  the  building 
as  were  open,  and  Mrs.  Melton  followed,  kind  and 
deferential,  telling  what  she  knew  would  interest, 
listening  to  remarks  like  this  from  Miss  Eunice:  "Is 
it  the  climate  or  the  dirt  that  makes  this  statuary  so 
grimy,  and  why  don't  the  queen  order  it  scrubbed  or 
dusted,  once  in  a  while  ?  What  a  queer,  unnatural 
fashion  it  is  anyway  to  put  the  graveyard  inside  of 
the  meeting  house,  as  you  might  say." 

Mrs.  Melton  would  have  preferred  to  talk  with 
Miss  Leigh;  but  the  latter  was  silent,  while  Miss 
Lathrop  was  exceedingly  talkative. 

"There  is  a  very  mixed  up  set  here  under  one 
roof,  isn't  there  ?  Methodists  like  Charles  Wesley, 


A    SUNDAY  AT  MRS.    CUDL/P'S.  71 

and  play  actors  like  Garrick.  Just  see  this  inscrip- 
tion over  a  little  chap  '  seaven  years  and  nine 
months  old,'  and  it  calls  him,  'Sir  Edward — Knight, 
Gentleman  of  The  Black  Rod  and  First  Gentleman 
Usher  and  Daily  Waiter  in  Ordinary  to  the  King.' 
Do  come  here,  Miss  Annie  !  " 

The  young  lady  had  disappeared.  "  She  will  re- 
turn to  us  or  we  will  find  her,"  said  Mrs.  Melton, 
half  guessing  the  truth  that  she  had  purposely  got- 
ten where  she  would  be  freer  to  enjoy  the  grand 
old  place,  for  Miss  Lathrop  talked  most  over  what 
attracted  the  young  girl  least.  She  followed  her 
own  devices  a  long  time,  evading  her  companions 
until  she  suddenly  feared  they  would  think  her  un- 
social, and  at  that  went  to  find  them.  They  played 
unwittingly  hide  and  seek  with  her,  so  that  she  be- 
gan to  be  almost  frightened  and  showed  her  anx- 
iety in  her  movements.  At  last  turning  a  new  way 
in  her  haste  she  found  herself  in  the  old  cloister. 

"After  all,"  she  thought,  "they  will  never  go 
away  and  leave  me,"  and  at  that,  she  stopped, 
leaning,  against  the  dark  stone  wall  to  examine 
her  surroundings  at  leisure  and  curiously. 

A  gentleman,  who  had  passed  Annie  repeatedly 
in  the  Abbey,  stood  out  there,  not  too  far  away,  to 
watch  her,  as  she  stopped  just  where  the  pale  sunlight 
smote  full  in  her  delicate  clear-cut  face  and  regilded 


72  EUNICE   LATffROP,  SPINSTER. 

her  yellow  hair  into  actual  splendor.  She  was  fan- 
cying how  the  place  looked  when  old  monks  walked 
about  over  the  sarne  stones  in  devout  meditations. 
He  was  asserting  to  himself  that  there  never  could 
have  been  a  more  radiant  face,  in  these  old  walls, 
since  they  were  reared;  and  he  cared  not  how  many 
sweet  maiden  queens  might  have  been  crowned 
there.  He  was  as  enchanted,  as  if  this  face  had 
blossomed  out  of  Paradise  simply  that  he  might 
look  at  it.  What  was  even  better,  he  reflected  that 
when  she  moved  again,  he  might  speak.  Before 
she  saw  him  she  turned  to  go,  troubled  again  as 
was  evident.  He  stepped  forward,  begged  her  par- 
don, and  in  the  same  breath,  quelled  her  fears  by 
saying,  that  if  she  were  looking  for  Mrs.  Melton  and 
another  lady,  they  were  only  a  moment  before,  in 
the  Poet's  Corner.  He  had  just  added,  "  I  am  in 
Mrs.  Cudlip's  house  and — "  when  Miss  Lathrop,  vis- 
ibly excited,  appeared  with  Mrs.  Melton.  The  lat- 
ter, smiling  serenely,  greeted  the  gentleman,  who, 
lingered  a  second  for  the  introduction  he  did  not 
get,  then  courteously  withdrew. 

"  Is  that  an  American  ?  "  asked  Miss  Eunice,  giv- 
ing Annie  a  little  clutch  of  rapture  at  her  recovery. 

"Yes,  a  Mr.  Rushmore,  he  is  now  at  Mrs.  Cud- 
lip's.  I  did  not  introduce  him.  Is  it  a  habit  in  your 
country  to  do  that,  when  one  does  not  know  if  it  is 


A    SUNDAY  AT  MRS.    CUDLIP'S.  73 

agreeable  to  the  persons  ?  I  never  like  to  presume 
in  such  matters. 

"I  suppose  you  are  right.  Ladies  travelling  alone 
cannot  be  too  reserved  with  strangers,"  said  Miss 
Eunice  promptly. 

Miss  Leigh  expressed  her  approval  of  their  dis- 
cretion, still  as  she  strolled  on  again,  the  remem- 
brance of  Rushmore's  great  brown  eyes  that  had 
sparkled  so  suddenly  and  winningly  upon  her,  to- 
gether with  his  voice  and  manner,  caused  her  to 
think  favorably  of  her  fellow  -citizens  of  the  near 
future. 

Rushmore,  piqued  at  Mrs.  Melton,  roamed  away, 
disconsolate,  and  sitting  down  on  a  ledge  opposite 
Old  Time,  who  had  a  vigorous  grip  upon  a  marble 
shroud  out  of  which  was  rolling  a  skeleton,  and  off 
the  old  skull  a  coronet,  he  spelled  out  a  name  and 
wondered — if  that  young  girl  could  be  his  neighbor 
under  Mrs.  Cudlip's  roof.  Mrs.  Melton  had  no  need 
to  be  so  punctilious:  he  would  circumvent  her.  She 
was  down  there  now  in  the  nave,  standing  fora  mo- 
ment by  herself.  He  walked  rapidly  toward  her, 
and  asked  for  the  location  of  the  Jerusalem  Cham- 
ber, and  without  change  of  countenance  heard  her 
tell  him  what  he  knew  as  well  as  she  knew,  before  he 
added,  "  Your  friends  are  Americans,  I  think." 

"Yes." 


74  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

"  London  is  full  of  New  Yorkers.  I  am  going  to 
run  away  from  them  next  week." 

"These  ladies  are  not  from  New  York." 

"Indeed?" 

The  word  being  an  interrogation,  not  an  excla- 
mation, she  added, 

"  No,  they  are  from  Waldenton,  at  least  the  elder 
lady  is.  So  you  leave  us  soon  ? " 

"  Yes,  for  Ireland.  I  am  from  that  very  town 
that  you  mention,  Mrs.  Melton.  It  is  more  than 
likely  they  are  my  neighbors.  It  is  not  a  very  ex- 
tensive place.  Tell  me  their  names,  pray !  We 
Americans,  when  we  go  to  Natal  or  Kamtchatka 
alway  look  up  one  another's  family  record  and  ex- 
change greetings,"  said  Rushmore,  unblushingly. 
He,  who  never  before  could  denounce,  with  suffi- 
cient emphasis,  the  practice  to  which  he  now  al- 
luded so  insinuatingly. 

"  One  is  a  Miss  Lathrop.  The  other,  the  younger 
and  the  more  important  of  the  two,  I  imagine,  is  a 
Miss  Leigh,"  said  Mrs.  Melton,  with  a  meaning 
smile. 

"  Her  father — do  you  know  his  name?" 

"  Of  course  not,  how  could  I  ?  She  has  been  at 
school  in  Switzerland — that  reminds  me  that  she 
said  her  father  died  last  year." 

There  was  a  tone  to  the  lady's  voice  making  Rush- 


A    SUNDAY  AT  MRS.    CUDLIP'S.  75 

more  aware  that  she  understood  him  and  that  he 
suggested  the  inquisitive  Yankee;  but  if  the  part 
pleased  him,  he  proposed  to  fill  it;  he  only  remarked 
blandly,  "  I  know  all  about  Miss  Leigh's  father 
now  and  might  be  able  to  tell  her  more  of  him  than 
she  remembers  herself.  I  have  visited  him  many  a 
time  with  my  own  father,  and  she  has  been  out  of 
the  country  for  years.  I  think  I  can  tell  who  this 
Miss  Lathrop  is  soon,  if  you  will  take  the  liberty  of 
introducing  me  to  my  countrywomen." 

He  pretended  not  to  see  Mrs.  Melton's  hesitation 
and  added  coolly:  "I  may  begin  a  pleasant  ac- 
quaintance on  this  side  the  ocean  which  otherwise 
would  surely  be  made  later." 

Mrs.  Melton  regarded  him  with  a  curious  ex- 
pression, as  she  moved  away  to  do  his  bidding. 
Five  minutes  later  Miss  Leigh  and  Mr.  Rushmore 
were  in  easy  converse.  Miss  Lathrop  fell  a  little 
behind  them  to  assure  Mrs.  Melton  that  it  was  all 
right — entirely  right. 

"  The  Rushmores  have  been  old  aristocrats  in 
Waldenton  for  a  hundred  years." 

The  widow  glanced  at  a  family  monument  near 
by  (three  hundred  years  old)  and  smiled,  as  she 
sweetly  answered,  "Is  it  possible  ?" 

"  His  father  is  the  president  of  a  bank  there,  I 
have  often  heard  this  Julian  Rushmore  mentioned. 


76  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

There  never  was  a  Rushmore,  who  was  not  a  per- 
fect gentleman,  to  my  knowledge." 

"It  is  all  very  proper  then  of  course,"  said  Mrs. 
Melton.  "And  I  like  to  become  acquainted  with 
your  American  ways.  You  are  so  good-hearted  and 
1  unceremonious.  It  is  really  delicious,  but  just  a 
little  unexpected  sometimes.  Your  way,  for  in- 
stance, with  Miss  Leigh  would  seem  to  me  novel 
and  peculiar." 

"  How  ?  "  asked  puzzled  Miss  Eunice. 

"  Oh,  English  chaperons  are  very  vigilant  and  sus- 
picious, and  English  girls  are  very  timid." 

"  I  would  not  have  anything  to  do  with  a  girl 
that  I  had  to  watch  or  take  care  of  like  a  baby. 
Miss  Leigh  is  self-reliant,  and  at  the  same  time  very 
gentle.  Yesterday  when  I  met  her  at  the  hotel  I 
thought  she  was  very  stately,  but  when  I  told  her 
about  her  father's  death  I  had  to  comfort  her  as  I 
would  a  grieved  little  child." 

"She  is  all  alone  in  the  world,  is  she  not,  poor 
girl?" 

"  Yes,  but  she  is  rich,"  added  Miss  Eunice. 

"  I  did  not  mean  '  poor '  pecuniarily.  I  was  think- 
ing of  love,  not  of  money,"  returned  Mrs.  Melton 
gently. 

Miss  Lathrop,  who  admired  her  companion's  mel- 
low voice  and  pretty  sentiments  fell  soon  into  a 


A    SUNDAY  AT  MRS.    CUDLZP'S.  77 

brown  study;  coming  out  to  exclaim:  "The  truth  is, 
I  do  not  know  so  very  much  about  the  world  !  What 
do  nice  girls  want  watching  for  anyway  ?  I  don't 
like  it.  Why  do  they,  Mrs.  Melton  ?" 

"  Because  sometimes  they  walk  right  into  a  trap- 
door leading  to  Perdition." 

Miss  Eunice  started  horror-stricken  as  she  asked, 
"  And  fall  through  ?  " 

"  Not  always." 

"  No,  indeed,"  burst  forth  the  good  spinster  piously; 
"  they  are  just  as  safe  so  as  if  they  were  in  heaven; 
their  Innocence  is  the  angel  who  holds  them  fast." 

"It  may  be;  but  I  have  another  idea  of  your 
American  girls.  It  does  not  conflict  with  that  one 
though  ? " 

"  What  is  yours  ?  " 

"That  they  are  quick  enough  to  know  the  first 
touch  of  the  Devil's  fingers  on  that  trap-door  latch 
and  quicker  yet  in  springing  back  to  safety.  My 
notion  is  more  complimentary  to  their  cleverness  and 
does  away  with  the  miracle." 

"  I  hope  you  believe  in  miracles,"  said  Miss  Eunice 
somewhat  alarmed.  If  she  had  been  weak  enough 
to  crack  the  Sabbath-day  commandment  by  en- 
joying the  Abbey,  she  would  not  endanger  her 
orthodoxy. 

Mrs.   Melton  calmed  her  and  they  continued  to 


78  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

follow  the  young  people,  who  dropped  into  a  con- 
versation about  Waldenton  which  Rushmore  kept 
in  such  a  shape  that  he  could  make  the  most 
progress  possible  toward  a  better  acquaintance. 
He  gave  Miss  Leigh  a  clearer  idea  of  the  social 
life  of  the  place  than  she  had  received  from 
Miss  Lathrop's  too  copious  and  rather  bewildering 
communications. 

''  I  hope  I  shall  soon  make  friends,"  she  ex- 
claimed, in  a  frank  way  that  reminded  him,  at  the 
instant,  of  Agnes,  although  Miss  Leigh  was  quicker, 
sunnier,  less  reserved. 

He  answered  on  the  impulse  of  the  resemb- 
lance suggested:  "I  am  sure  you  will  do  so, 
and  that  speedily.  There  are  some  rare  women 
and  young  girls  in  Waldenton.  I  think  of  one 
now  whom,  if  you  happen  to  meet,  you  will  wish 
for  a  friend." 

"  His  betrothed  no  doubt,"  she  thought,  re- 
plying cordially,  "Let  us  hope  I  may  find  her 
then." 

"  I  think  you  will.  Sometime  I  will  tell  you  of 
her — and  of  others." 

Standing  in  the  great  door  at  that  moment  Rush- 
more  said:  "If  you  look  out  now,  and  then  turn 
again  and  glance  back  into  the  building,  you  will 
be  charmed.  That  sunshine,  so  spirit-like  and 


A    SUNDAY  AT  MRS.    CUDLIP'S.  79 

ready  to  vanish,  as  it  floats  out  of  this  tender 
English  sky  seems  more  exquisite  to  me  than  any 
fuller  splendor  !  Only  look  over  your  shoulder  and 
see  the  upper  part  of  the  Abbey  full  of  soft  gray 
mist  !  " 

"  Maybe  all  the  spirits  of  old  lords  and  ladies,  • 
poets  and  warriors  and  statesmen  hover  about  up 
there  over  their  tombs,"  she  returned. 

"  Yes,  do  see  the  fog  !  "  broke  in  Miss  Eunice. 
"  It  is  enough  to  make  a  person  neuralgic  from  birth 
to  have  the  climate  made  visible  and  forever  in  sight; 
but  Mrs.  Melton  says  we  will  be  late  for  dinner,  if 
we  don't  go  now,  Miss  Leigh." 

That  ended  the  dialogue.  Rushmore  bowed,  and 
hastened  away  to  call  their  carriage. 

Sunday  evenings  were  usually  spent  by  Rushmore 
in  writing  letters  to  Agnes  Hathaway.  On  this 
night  he  wrote  a  long  epistle.  He  had  been 
homesick  for  a  week  or  more  and  confessed  it.  His 
letters  were  never  in  the  least  sentimental;  but  he 
said  he  should  be  very  happy  to  see  her  again.  He 
told  her  that,  in  imagination  he  often  took  her  with 
him.  They  had  wandered  about  Oxford  in  this  way 
not  long  before.  She  searched  out  the  old  treasures 
of  the  Bodleian  Library  with  him,  strolled  along  Ad- 
dison's  Walk,  climbed  the  college  stairways  and 
grew  enthusiastic  over  the  lawns,  with  grass  like  no 


8o  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

other  grass  on  earth.  He  was  moved  to  go  on  and 
refer  to  the  expression  in  her  eyes,  etc.,  etc.,  when 
he  pulled  himself  up,  figuratively  speaking,  with  the 
reflection  that  he  was  not  writing  a  love  letter.  He 
paused  to  ask  himself  why  he  was  not.  It  would  be 
rather  a  pleasing  thing  to  do.  •  He  was  thus  musing 
and  gazing  at  the  neighboring  chimney  pots,  out- 
lined against  the  evening  sky,  when  there  came  a 
rap  on  his  door.  It  was  the  drab-haired  one  who 
entered,  courtesying  elaborately,  mindful  of  past  six- 
pences. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  but  Mrs.  Cudlip  says  would 
you  come  to  the  drawing-room  ? " 

"Now?" 

"She  spoke  as  if  she  meant  directly,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  go  down  at  once." 

He  went  and  was  a  little  chagrined  to  find  Mad- 
ame alone.  He  had  hoped  the  American  ladies 
would  be  there. 

"You  must  feel  free,  Mr,  Rushmore,  to  drop  in 
any  time  for  tea  at  this  hour,  even  if  you  do  dine 
elsewhere  for  convenience'  sake.  Now  let  me  give 
you  a  cup,  you  will  find  it  refreshing." 

He  knew  to  the  contrary,  but  he  let  the  bland 
matron  prepare  him  a  weak  decoction. 

"I  have  always  heard  that  you  lawyers  charge 
enormous  fees  for  legal  advice,"  she  remarked, 


A    SUNDAY  AT  MRS.    CUDLIP'S.  8 1 

her  lips  in  such  a  fascinating  smile,  their  mous- 
tache might  have  faded  out  of  mind,  if  one  felt 
sympathetic. 

"The  fees,"  said  Rushmore,  "depend  upon  the 
lawyer — and  the  amount  of  law  laid  down." 

"  Well  then,  may  we  not,  you  and  I  here  so  cosily 
together,  just  suppose  the  advice  is  not  professional 
but  only  friendly  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  I  am  so  perplexed  !  I  have  talked  a  matter 
over  with  Mr.  Harrow,  our  dyspeptic  scientist,  you 
know.  He  has  been  in  America,  but  he  could  not 
enlighten  me.  Is  it  easy,  Mr.  Rushmore,  for  a  lady 
to  support  herself  in  the  States  ?  " 

"  Not  by  merely  being  a  lady,  far  from  it." 

"  Take  for  instance,  one,  young  and  strong,  able 
to  sew,  to  teach,  to  be  an  amanuensis  or  a  compan- 
ion to  an  invalid,  in  fact,  a  capable  attractive  per- 
son, would  she  be  likely  to  earn  her  bread  and  but- 
ter without  great  worry  ?  " 

Mrs.  Cudlip  was  practical  to  a  degree  that  sur- 
prised him  after  her  dinner-table  talks;  for  he  had 
heard  one  and  only  one  of  these. 

He  put  down  his  cup  saying:  "  I  think  a  woman 
who  could  teach,  nurse,  copy,  mantua-make — cook 
did  you  say  ?— might  earn  her  morsel  in  England, 
Australia  or  America.  I  would  not  decide  about 


82  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

the  worry  until  I  knew  her  capabilities  in  that  line, 
as  well  as  in  the  others.  But  let  me  add,  I  only 
think  this,  I  don't  know  anything  about  it.  I  never 
sewed,  or  taught  children.  If  I  have  made  myself 
companionable  no  one  was  ever  kind  enough  to  pay 
me  for  it." 

The  lady  was  piqued.  Rushmore  seeing  it,  hast- 
ened to  add:  "  Perhaps  there  is  more  work  for 
women  in  our  country  than  in  England,  but  it  is 
hard  enough  for  one  to  take  care  of  herself  any- 
where. Very  likely  these  American  ladies,  with 
you  now,  can  tell  you  more  than  I  am  able  to  say 
with  certainty." 

He  wondered  if  Mrs.  Cudlip  had  a  wild  notion  of 
emigrating.  If  she  said  one  word  about  capability 
to  keep  a  boarding-house,  he  resolved  to  save  his 
country,  let  his  patriotism  cost  him  what  it  might; 
but  her  next  remark  enlightened  him. 

"  I  have  a  dear  young  friend  who  longs  for  a  change 
of  scene.  She  has  a  bright  sensitive  spirit  and  could 
attach  herself  ardently  to  congenial  friends — would 
be  deeply  grateful  for  any  kindness  or  sympathy. 
Are  your  country  people  trustful  and  openhearted 
to  strangers  ? " 

"There  are  as  many  varieties  of  American  men 
and  women  as  there  are  of  English,  and  perhaps 
fifty  thousand  more,  if  you  should  sort  them  over 


A    SUNDAY  AT  MRS.    CUDLIP' S.  83 

for  labelling.  We  are  not  morose  or  inhospitable, 
but  with  steamers  bringing  us  five  or  six  hundred 
foreigners  every  half  hour,  we  can't  be  perpetually 
in  the  attitude  of  welcome.  Still,  if  we  don't  take 
them  individually  to  our  hearts,  many  of  them 
flourish  and  wax  fat,  some  of  the  baser  sort  do 
more." 

Rushmore  felt  cheated.  He  came  down  to  meet 
Miss  Leigh,  not  to  drink  weak  tea,  and  chatter  with 
Mrs.  Cudlip.  He  did  not  believe  she  was  talking 
with  any  purpose  until  he  perceived  she  looked 
rather  disappointed,  then  he  added  more  sympa- 
thetically: "If  the  friend  you  speak  of  has  any 
friends  in  America,  or  any  money  to  live  on  for  a 
while,  no  doubt  she  can  get  employment." 

Mrs.  Cudlip  nervously  tapped  the  teapot  with  her 
silver  spoon.  She  had  meant  to  be  confidential,  to 
enlist  Mr.  Rushmore  in  Mrs.  Melton's  behalf;  but  he 
was  less  manageable  than  she  had  believed  him  to  be. 
Perhaps  it  was  as  well  to  let  the  matter  drop;  so 
drop  it  she  did,  and  gracefully  glided  into  a  long 
anecdote  a  propos  of  what,  he  never  knew,  but  it 
brought  in  her  father,  the  Welsh  clergyman.  Rush- 
more  chatted  a  while  longer,  watched  the  play  of 
her  fat  hands  in  the  air,  and  then,  as  the  Scientist 
entered  the  room,  made  his  escape,  reflecting,  on 
the  way  to  his  apartment,  that  although  Mrs.  Cud- 


84  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

lip  might  think  him  unfeeling,  it  was  not  for  him  to 
be  seeking  out  ardent,  sensitive  ladies  longing  to 
sail  the  seas  over. 

Mrs.  Cudlip  went  down-stairs  and  removed  half 
the  cold  meat  from  the  nine  o'clock  supper-table 
before  the  bell  was  rung.  Her  baffled  feelings  must 
express  themselves  in  some  way. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  Small  Enthusiast. 

T  IKE  one  more  grain  of  sand,  washed  by  a  wave 
*-'  on  some  almost  limitless  shore,  came  a  wee, 
unwelcome  mortal,  into  life  one  day — into  life  in 
London.  Another  heart  to  beat  with  the  four  mil- 
lion others  already  there  in  action — to  beat  gladly  or 
wearily,  as  God  willed,  as  men  helped  or  hindered. 
The  mother  was  young,  fair  and  strong,  but  she 
frowned  on  her  child,  fretted  over  what  she  should 
do  with  it,  since  to  love  it  was  not  in  her  heart.  It 
was  all  the  same  to  the  baby,  while  it  was  chiefly  a 
bundle  of  flannel;  and  by  the  time  its  bright  eyes 
began  to  look  about,  they  rested  on  a  strange, 
gaunt  woman  in  a  flapping  white  cap;  and  the  quick 
little  heart  throbbed  against  the  black  robe  of  a  Sis- 
ter Ursula.  She  was  not  young  nor  pretty,  but  by 
some  freak  of  nature,  she  had  the  human  tenderness 
that  the  other  woman  lacked,  so  again  it  was  all  the 
same  to  the  atom.  In  due  process  of  time,  he  de- 


86  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

veloped  into  a  nine  year  old  boy,  and  was  known 
in  general  as  "  Number  Six,  Upper  Corridor,"  when 
spoken  of  by  the  powers  that  ruled  at  "  The  Catho- 
lic Male  Half-Orphan  Asylum";  but  more  particu- 
larly, if  it  were  a  question  of  exactness,  as  Guy  Mel- 
ton. He  was  a  refined,  clear  eyed  child,  slim  and 
shapely.  In  answer  to  questions  he  often  informed 
the  young  male  orphans  about  him,  that  his  mother 
had  always  been  a  widow,  and  he  had  never  had  any 
father.  He  did  not,  in  regard  to  this  matter,  speak 
by  authority  at  all — perhaps  it  was  by  inspiration. 
Some  one  paid  for  his  maintenance  and  he  was  not 
in  the  least  unhappy.  What  if  he  looked,  in  his 
grotesque  little  uniform,  like  the  ninety  other  boys, 
who  slept  in  the  same  kind  of  a  cot,  ate  like  frugal 
meals  and  learned  the  same  doctrines — he  knew 
himself.  What  more  could  a  philosopher  do  ?  There 
was,  in  this  Asylum  of  St.  Guthlac,  a  certain  pock- 
marked priest,  who  wore  a  black  petticoat,  and  often 
assured  Guy  that,  at  his  age,  he  also  would  be  a 
priest,  probably  pock-marked,  surely  petticoated, 
and  him  Guy  hated.  It  was,  instead,  his  heart's  de- 
sire to  be  of  the  blessed,  heroic  saints  described  so 
vividly  by  Sister  Ursula.  To  dwell  in  the  desert, 
.to  share  a  cave  with  his  own  companionable  wild 
beast — some  snow-white  lion,  as  pious  as  he  was 
colossal — this  was  Guy's  outlook  and  cherished 


A    SMALL    ENTHUSIAST.  87 

dream.  There  was  not  much  chance  for  out-of-door 
sports  at  the  asylum,  which  was  in  a  forlorn  part  of 
London,  shut  in  by  warehouses.  There  were  no 
copies  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  or  The  Arabian  Nights 
to  read,  but  Sister  Ursula's  legends  answered  well  in 
their  absence,  and  there  was  old  St.  Guthlac's  Cathe- 
dral, musty,  dark  and  fascinating,  close  by  the  asy- 
lum and  connected  with  it  under  cover.  When  the 
good  sister  stole  away,  to  say  her  prayers  there,  Guy 
used  to  find  her  out  and  follow.  He  did  not  go  for 
any  devout  reason,  but  to  hobnob  with  a  grand  Lord 
and  Lady  to  whom  since  he  first  found  them,  his  af- 
fections had  clung.  The  moment  Sister  Ursula  knelt, 
his  light  feet  sped  down  the  aisle  to  a  spot  wfrere 
was  a  flat,  raised  slab,  on  which  mediaeval  monks 
took  tithes;  scrambling  up  on  it,  Guy  would  push 
back  his  light  curls  and  say,  "  Good  day,  my  Lord ! 
Good  day,  my  Lady  !  Good  day,  old  Doggie." 

The  noble  pair  never  returned  his  greeting,  be- 
cause the  sweetest  child's  voice  had  ceased  for  them 
centuries  before,  but  he  was  not  repulsed  by  the 
silence.  It  was  all  a  part  of  them,  of  course.  Their 
hideous  effigies  were  stretched  on  high,  magnificent 
tombs.  He  liked  his  grim  lordship  and  fehe  hound 
that  couched  at  his  feet.  The  lady's  pink  marble 
hands  with  cut  rings,  her  huge  ruffs,  long  stomacher, 
even  her,  perhaps  patrician,  but  undeniably  hooked 


88  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

nose — Guy  honestly  admired  all.  He  had  no  cor- 
rect idea  of  their  titles  or  estate  in  life.  Heaven 
knows  what  he  did  fancy;  perhaps  that  the  carous- 
ing old  lord  was  one  of  his  holy  heroes,  and  fought 
dragons,  not  fellow  Christians,  when  he  wore  the 
rusty  armor  hanging  over  his  tomb  and  gloried  in 
the  banner  whose  rags  fluttered  over  the  boy,  cross- 
legged  on  the  tithing  table. 

One  day  the  sister  missed  Guy  and  came  there  to 
find  him.  He  suddenly  asked  "Where  are  they 
now — the  knowing  part  of  them  ?  " 

As  his  small  thumb  was  levelled  at  the  prostrate 
pair,  she  understood  and  answered  resignedly:  "  In 
purgatory  perhaps,  for  the  rich  fall  into  many 
temptations." 

"  And  did  the  dog  go  with  them  ? " 

"  No,  brutes  do  not  sin." 

"  Then  perhaps  he  waits  outside  the  door  for 
them.  Poor  thing,  that  must  be  lonesome  !  Will 
they  all  come  into  these  stone  bodies  when  they 
get  out  ?  I  wish  the  dog  would  do  it  now  and  let 
me  love  him." 

"  You  don't  understand  it,  child." 

He  stretched  himself  and  kissed  the  sister.  She 
never  was  demonstrative,  it  was  contrary  to  the 
habits  of  her  order;  but  Guy  felt  embraces  which 
she  never  gave  him.  He  always  seemed  to  have 


A    SMALL    ENTHUSIAST.  89 

received  them  when  her  hard  hands  touched  him, 
when  her  eyes  looked  out  on  him  from  her  awful 
head-gear. 

This  time  she  said  soberly,  "  What  if  you  have 
to  go  out  into  the  big  and  bad  world  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  want  to  go  when  I  am  old." 

"  If  you  go  when  you  are  little,  you  will  forget 
what  I  have  told  you  and  you  will  become  a  heretic 
instead  of  a  saint." 

"  And  go  to  purgatory  ? " 

"  Yes,  or  to  hell." 

He  winced;  the  retreat  first  spoken  of,  suggested 
the  possibility  of  his  meeting  there  the  pink  marble 
gentry,  so  dear  to  him;  but  when  the  sister  whis- 
pered the  other  awful  word  he  cried  out  with  en- 
ergy: "  I  won't  go  anywhere  !  I  will  stay  with 
you  !  " 

"  I  wish  you  might,  but  little  boys  often  are  sent 
away  from  here  to  other  friends." 

"  I  wfll  not  go  !  If  Father  Dominick  makes  me, 
I  will  kick  him  like  this." 

The  sister  laid  a  hand  oft  the  small  leg  in  the 
air. 

"We  all  of  us  have  to  obey,  Guy,  and  the  best 
obey  quickest." 

"  Will  they  let  me  go  to  the  desert  ?" 

"  Very  likely,  sooner  or  later." 


90  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

With  his  soft  cheek  against  her  coarse  dress,  he 
gravely  studied  my  Lord's  great  gauntlet;  but  he 
was  not  thinking,  as  often  before,  of  the  broken  fore- 
finger, for  he  faltered  out:  "I  don't  want  to  go  and 
leave  you,  even  then.  I  am  too  little  to  be  a  martyr. 
I  don't  believe  there  would  be  any  lion  to  go  with 
me." 

"  Maybe  not,  but  you  would  be  good  and  do  as 
you  were  told — " 

"  No  !     I  will  kick  !     I  will  kick—" 

A  bell  struck  in  a  distant  tower.  Sister  Ursula 
hastened  away,  calling  the  small  male  Catholic  or- 
phan to  follow  her.  He  did,  but  while  she,  in  pass- 
ing the  altar,  bowed  with  a  reverent  sign,  his  head 
was  erect,  his  heart  full  of  new  rebellion  against 
fate:  as  if  among  London  millions,  one  little  heart's 
beating  would  count  for  anything — or  as  if  fate 
cared  for  the  kick. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

Mocmlight  on  the  Sea. 

r  I  ^HE  sky  was  clear,  the  breeze  strong,  the  water 
•*-  in  the  Cove  of  Cork  greener  than  the  green 
shores.  Out  in  the  harbor  lay  the  steamer  Vic- 
toria, around  about  it  far  and  wide,  were  little  Irish 
craft  with  butternut  brown  sails,  close  to  it  was  the 
small  steamer  that  had  brought  out  from  Queens- 
town  additional  voyagers. 

Miss  Leigh  was  leaning  over  the  railing  watching 
these  last.  Miss  Eunice  Lathrop,  seduced  by  the 
blarney  of  a  bog-wood  seller,  who  had  boarded 
the  larger  vessel,  was  letting  go  English  silver  for 
tiny  black  pots  and  funereal  chains. 

"Don't  get  any  more  of  them;  they  are  hideous," 
said  Annie.  "Come  here  and  look  at  the  funny 
emigrants  with  shawls  over  their  heads  ! " 

"  They  will  have  French  hats  next  month,"  re- 
turned Miss  Eunice,  leaving  the  bog-wood.  "  Yes, 
do  see  the  sauce-pans  and  the  feather-beds — and  I 
do  declare,  there  is  Mr.  Rushmore  ! " 


92  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

Annie  was  not  looking  that  way;  her  curiosity 
had  suddenly  softened,  at  sight  of  a  young  girl 
clinging  to  her  old  father's  neck,  while  he  trembling 
tried  to  bid  her  good-by. 

"Poor  old  man!  Isn't  it  hard ?"  she  exclaimed, 
her  own  blue  eyes  full  of  tears. 

Miss  Lathrop  intent  on  her  discovery  continued: 
"It  will  be  very  pleasant  to  have  his  company 
across  now.  Annie,  don't  you  see  him — Mr.  Rush- 
more  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad,"  was  the  frank  reply.  "  Yes 
I  see  him  sandwiched  between  a  pillow-case  of 
clothes  and  an  Irishwoman's  cooking  apparatus. 
What  a  surprise  he  will  have  !  " 

Perhaps  the  meeting  might  not  have  been  so 
much  a  "  surprise,"  as  aplanned-for  occurrence  upon 
the  part  of  Mr.  Rushmore;  but  he  showed  a  due 
amount  of  enthusiasm  at  sight  of  them  when  he 
escaped  from  the  tin  oven  and  appeared  above 
board,  in  elegant  society. 

Half  an  hour  later,  the  steamer  was  under  way 
again  and  everybody  was  at  ease,  sea  fashion.  Miss 
Leigh  looked  e^rtremely  pretty,  with  a  soft,  white 
scarf  about  her  hair,  though  it  could  not  keep  bright 
little  rings  from  flying  out  over  her  forehead.  Miss 
Eunice,  too  alert  to  recline  in  any  long  drawn-out 
steamer  chair,  was  perched  on  a  ledge  chatting 


MOONLIGHT    ON   THE    SEA.  93 

about  anything  or  everything  that  Rushmore  hap- 
pened to  mention.  In  the  few  days  spent  in  London 
this  gentleman  had  become  well  acquainted  with 
the  ladies.  Miss  Lathrop,  little  by  little,  recalled 
the  almost  entire  genealogy  of  the  Rushmore  family 
and  Annie,  who  liked  him  exceedingly,  would  have 
received  him  as  a  friend  even  if  she  had  not  been  fa- 
vored with  all  this  history. 

"What  have  you  done  since  I  saw  you  last,  Miss 
Leigh  ?"  he  asked.  "Did  you  go  to  Warwick  and 
Kenilworth  Castles,  as  you  were  planning  when  I 
left  you  at  Dame  Cudlip's  ? " 

"We  did." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  Not  a  word  !  I  have  heard  you  say  a  report  of 
that  sort  was  'intolerable.'" 

"What  a  memory  you  have  !  But  I  know  you  re- 
fuse because  you  did  not  enjoy  it,  no  doubt  it  rained." 

"  No,  indeed,"  she  put  in  eagerly.  "  The  day  at 
Kenilworth  was  exquisite — bright  sunshine  on  the 
ivy,  the  flowers  were  in  blossom,  away  up  on  towers 
where  the  wind  must  have  carried  their  seeds,  and 
the  birds  were  flitting  around  in  the  old  banquet 
hall,  which  is  all  open  to  the  sky,  we — " 

She  caught  the  laughter  in  his  eye  and  quickly 
went  on,  "  we  came  on  board." 

"What  at  Warwick?" 


94  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

— "  And  since  then  I  have  had  to  watch  over  my 
little  chaperon" 

"  Is  Miss  Lathrop  inclined  to  be  wild  ?" 

"  Oh  no — only  timid,  and  there  is  a  gentleman, 
we  think  he  is  an  undertaker,  although  that  was  not 
mentioned  when  he  was  introduced  by  the  captain 
to  us,  who  persists  in  asking  her  to  walk — to  come 
and  watch  the  glory  of  the  sea  or  to  go  below  and 
see  the  ponderous  machinery;  he  looks  very  meek, 
but  he  frightens  her." 

"  No  wonder;  there  is  no  politeness  on  earth  so  im- 
pertinently suggestive  as  an  undertaker's — he  seems 
to  want  to  carry  it  so  far;  but  away  with  ghastly 
jokes.  Do  tell  us  more  about  that  banquet  hall 
deserted,  Miss  Leigh  !  " 

Annie  studied  the  coast  and  said  that  the  few 
cabins  and  square  towers  in  the  alternate  verdure 
and  barrenness  made  it  look  like  a  tilted  chess 
board." 

"  Well,  if  you  positively  refuse  to  tell  your  adven- 
tures, tell  me  more  about  the  passengers;  a  steamer 
is  like  a  big  menagerie  where  it  is  both  amusing  and 
instructive  to  study  the  creatures  great  and  small. 
It  is  only  the  scientific  who  devote  their  attention 
to  the  aquarium  outside. 

"  We  have  not  been  on  deck  much  until  this  after- 
noon," said  Miss  Lathrop.  "  The  sun  on  the  water  is 


MOONLIGHT   ON    THE    SEA.  95 

painful  to  Mrs.  Melton's  eyes  and  it  seemed  a  little 
unfriendly  to  leave  her  alone  below  at  the  very  first." 

"  Mrs.  Melton  ! "  echoed  Rushmore.  "  Do  you  mean 
Mrs.  Cudlip's  daughter  or  niece  ?" 

"  Yes,"  returned  Miss  Eunice  promptly.  "  Didn't 
you  know  she  was  going  to  Waldenton  with  us  ? 
She  is  a  nice  little  thing  and  we  are  very  sorry  for 
her.  Miss  Leigh  has  invited  her  to  stay  at  her 
house  until  she  gets  employment.  She  can  do  al- 
most anything." 

"Indeed!  Well  you  are  very  kind.  I  wish  her  suc- 
cess," returned  Rushmore  thoughtfully;  then  at  the 
ringing  of  the  loud  dinner  bell  he  exclaimed:  "  That 
is  a  welcome  sound.  I  have  fasted  since  ten  o'clock." 

Mrs.  Melton  did  not  appear  at  the  table,  and  after 
dinner  Miss  Lathrop  went  to  see  if  she  were  getting 
seasick.  As  soon  as  she  disappeared,  Rushmore  said 
to  Annie:  "  Our  friend  the  undertaker  not  being  here 
to  suggest  a  walk,  may  I  persecute  you  in  his  stead." 

"  Oh,  he  always  neglected  me,"  she  answered  smil- 
ingly following  the  evening  procession  from  the 
table  to  the  deck. 

They  were  in  time  for  the  after-glow  of  an  orange 
and  red  sunset.  The  colors  were  now  on  the  sea, 
and  over  them  in  serene  splendor  was  the  full  moon. 
Fat  men  were  puffing  back  and  forth,  dragging  wind- 
blown ladies,  young  men  and  maidens  were  gaily 


$6  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

speeding  from  bow  to  stern — or  trying  to  do  so  with 
many  a  dodge  and  lurch.  The  skittle  players  were 
shouting,  everybody  was  jubilant.  Rushmore  and 
Annie  walked,  until  their  breath  was  almost  ex- 
hausted, and  then  panting  and  laughing  dropped 
into  a  sheltered  corner  and  let  their  companions  of 
a  moment  before  furnish  them  with  transient  amuse- 
ment. Annie,  her  cheeks  glowing  and  golden  hair 
flying,  tried  to  hold  her  mantle"  around  her  and  get 
the  better  of  the  breeze,  while  she  talked. 

"  I  am  always  tempted  to  ask  you  about  Walden- 
ton,  when  we  are  together,"  she  said.  "  I  have  not 
patience  to  wait  and  find  out  things  for  myself." 

"  I  can  tell  you  everything,  Miss  Leigh  !  Listen 
now  and  confess  to  me  later  that  my  foresight  was 
almost  super-human.  You  will  get  home  on  Thurs- 
day. You  will  go  over  the  house  Friday,  while 
Miss  Lathrop  counts  napkins  and  discovers  no  end 
of  work  to  be  done.  Saturday  you  will  see  the 
vases  are  empty  and  go  to  pick  roses  for  them; 
standing  at  the  end  of  your  garden,  you  will  look 
down  into  middle-town,  where  my  office  is.  Re- 
member me  in  that  moment  !  Of  course,  your 
friends  will  be  of  the  upper-town,  so  on  Sunday,  in 
modest  attire,  you  will  go  to  the  church  with  the 
highest  steeple.  Nobody  will  seem  to  see  you,  but 
every  lady,  who  is  to  know  you  later  will  have  borne 


MOONLIGHT    ON    THE    SEA.  97 

into  her,  past  the  prayer  book,  a  vision  of  your  crim- 
son fichu  and  orange  jabot,  your  purple  and  gold 
redingote — will  know  that  you  bought  them  all  in 
Paris  and  will  decorously  talk  you  over  in  the  family 
circle  after  church.  The  week  after  that,  Upper 
Waldenton  will  call  upon  you — estimable  old  ladies, 
fine  matrons,  delightful  widows  and  a  great  many 
charming  girls." 

"Will  the  young  lady  you  told  me  of  once  be 
among  these  ? " 

Rushmore  hesitated  a  second  before  he  replied: 
"  No,  I  think  not — by  the  time  you  have  come  to  a 
clear  understanding  of  the  social  importance  of  the 
lady  with  prominent  lavender  eyes,  and  can  know 
who  came  over  in  the  Mayflower,  you  may  return 
your  calls.  Then  there  will  be  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  tea  and  lawn  parties — yes,  conversations 
and  musicals — go  to  them  all.  If  you  can  interpo- 
late a  day  somewhere,  you  must  give  a  five  o'clock 
tea.  Don't  let  anybody  call  it  a  kettledrum;  they 
have  had  those  there,  and  this  rose — this  tea-rose  I 
might  say,  will  be  sweeter  by  another  name." 

Annie's  blue  eyes  sparkled  with  mischief;  she  said 
demurely:  "  You  know  everything  about  Waldenton 
etiquette,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  I  flatter  myself  that  I  do." 

"  Miss  Lathrop  had  given  me  to  understand  that, 


;;  EUNICE   LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

as  I  was  wearing  mourning,  I  would  not  be  expected 
to  vary  it  with  those  rainbow  colors,  and  must  not 
go  to  parties  or  give  them  myself." 

Rushmore  had  to  laugh  off  his  chagrin,  saying, 
"  That  is  what  a  man  gets  for  meddling  with  mil- 
linery!" 

"  Of  course  I  Now  tell  me  how  I  am  to  know  this 
friend  of  yours,  if  she  will  not  come  to  me.  Why 
won't  she  ?  Does  she  not  live  in  Waldenton  ?  " 

"Not  in  the  upper-town,  and  she  goes  very  little 
into  society;  her  father  is  an  elderly  man,  a  minister, 
and  rather  poor  I  imagine.  When  I  am  ready  to 
have  you  know  her,  I  will  tell  her  of  you  and  will  let 
you  meet.  Is  not  that  autocratic  ?  " 

"  Very.     Is  she  a  beauty  ?  " 

"  She  is  slighter  than  you  are  and  not  so  sunny  in 
face  or  mood;  but  she  is  very  lovely  in  a  still  way." 

"  Is  she  intellectual  ?  " 

"  Not  tediously  so.  She  is  not  a  nineteenth  cen- 
tury girl.  I  was  in  the  cathedral  at  Brussels  one 
day,  at  the  foot  of  Verbruggen's  old  pulpit,  when  a 
Sister  of  Charity  came  in  with  a  hundred  little 
wooden  shoed  children,  clattering  behind  her.  She 
had  a  smile,  so  like  Agnes  Hathaway's  I  was  tempted 
to  take  her  hand  and  say:  "  Why,  I  left  you  teach- 
ing Sunday  school  in  Massachusetts,  and  here  you 
are  more  saintly  than  ever." 


MOONLIGHT   ON    THE    SEA.  99 

"  Is  she  so  good  as  that  ?  Can't  she  dance  and 
sing  and  enjoy  herself  ?  I  should  shock  her.  I  like 
brilliant  sunshine,  I  never  could  endure  a  shaded, 
colorless  life." 

"I  think  she  is  entirely  happy;  though  her  life 
must  be  dull,"  said  Rushmore,  pushing  his  soft  cap 
back  from  his  handsome  forehead. 

"  She  ought  to  go  to  those  parties  you  speak  of, 
and  wear  crimson  and  yellow  dresses.  I  shall  make 
her.  She  needs  just  such  things." 

"  No,  she  don't.  She  will  live  along  in  that  little 
parsonage  and  get  more  unearthly  every  year,  and 
some  day  half  a  century  or  a  quarter  from  now  she 
will  be—" 

"  Like  what  ?  " 

"  Well,  not  old  and  withered,  but  like  a  flower 
shut  away  in  a  Bible  to  be  found  long  after  half  per- 
fumed, a  spirit  whose  body  held  it  and  grew  ethereal." 

"  You  are  talking  nonsense.  I  am  very  matter  of 
fact.  I  think  it  is  dreadful  to  let  bright,  live  things 
get  crushed,  even  in  holy  places.  Let  us  say  she 
will  get  gayer  and  happier  every  year  of  her  life. 
Will  she  marry  ?  " 

"Perhaps." 

The  deck  had  become  much  less  crowded.  The 
color  on  the  water  had  vanished  and  all  light  now 
came  from  the  moon.  Annie  glanced  about  and, 


100  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

Rushmore  fearing  she  might  go  below,  proposed 
another  walk.  As  they  promenaded  back  and  forth, 
slowly  this  time,  he  said,  "  I  cannot  tell  you,  Miss 
Leigh  how  pleased  I  am  in  the  thought  that  ours 
need  not  be  a  brief  acquaintance.  In  Waldenton  I 
may  see  you  frequently,  I  hope." 

"  Naturally,  we  will  meet  often,  if  it  is  the 
very  social  place  you  describe,"  she  said  in  a  low 
tone. 

"Oh,  here  you  are,"  exclaimed  Miss  Eunice,  pop- 
ping as  from  a  box,  out  of  the  upper  cabin.  "  I  for- 
got all  about  you  until  Mrs.  Melton  asked  where 
you  were.  There  is  an  opera  troupe  on  board,  and 
the  prima  donna  is  eating  Welsh  rarebit  with  the 
leader  of  the  orchestra.  She  is  the  stout,  yellow- 
wigged  woman,  we  saw  come  on  board  with  two 
maids  and  a  puppy.  She  won't  sing  for  us,  she  never 
sings  on  the  sea;  but  it  is  very  interesting  down  in 
the  cabin.  You  can  learn  who  everybody  is  with- 
out the  least  effort.  The  second  son  of  the  Earl  of 
Something  is  down  there,  going  to  Canada,  and  I 
took  him  for  the  steward,  and  said,  I  wished  I  had 
some  lemonade.  He  didn't  understand,  but  only 
stared,  said,  '  I  beg  pah-don,'  and  walked  right  on 
over  me.  Isn't  it  too  cool  up  here  ? " 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better  go  in,"  the  young  lady  re- 
plied, and  after  a  brief  good  night  Rushmore  \vas 


MOONLIGHT   ON    THE    SEA.  IOI 

left  alone.  He  lighted  a  cigar  and  continued  his 
promenade,  stopping  at  the  stern  to  see  the  crumb- 
ling white  foam  ride  up  the  waves  and  topple  over 
into  the  dark  trough  of  waters.  Of  a  sudden  his 
thoughts  took  a  curious  turn.  He  had  been  talking 
quite  aimlessly  about  Agnes;  he  all  at  this  moment 
realized  how  much  he  reverenced  her.  He  was  sorry 
he  had  told  a  stranger  of  her;  her  searching  eyes 
almost  seemed  to  be  reproaching  him  for  something. 
Every  time  he  thought  Miss  Leigh  so  exceedingly 
pretty  and  charming,  as  he  certainly  had  to-nfght, 
he  felt  a  twinge  of — what  ?  He  let  the  question  go 
unanswered  and  fell  into  a  reverie.  He  could  im- 
agine a  way  by  wliich  more  color  might  come  into 
Agnes's  life.  Perhaps  he  could  put  it  there.  True 
that  was  his  fancy,  not  a  positive  knowledge.  It 
laid  no  obligation  upon  him,  he  only  pondered  if  it 
would  please  him  to  try  his  skill.  He  almost  came 
to  think  that  it  might,  that  if  he  were  on  land  to- 
night he  could  write  Agnes  a  letter  which  might 
bring  back  another  as  rare  and  delicate  as  her  last 
one  crumpled  in  his  pocket — only  fuller  and  sweeter 
as  an  unfolded  blossom  that  ceases  to  be  a  hid  prom- 
ise when  it  opens  to  the  sun.  He  could  not  write 
of  course,  but  soon  he  would  be  back  in  the  plain 
little  parlor,  with  Agnes  gravely  asking  of  his 
travels.  It  was  just  possible  that  he  would  waste 


102  EUNICE    LATHKOP,  SPINSTER. 

no  more  time  reading  her  the  love  poems  of  foreign 
poets,  dead  this  many  a  year;  but  he  might  tell  her 
something  equally  romantic  and  much  more  origi- 
nal. It  was  astonishing  how  bright  and  happy  this 
fancy  made  him  feel  in  its  first  freshness.  He  act- 
ually blushed  in  the  twilight  as  if  the  mermaids  were 
telling  one  another  his  fine  thoughts.  He  almost 
believed  himself  a  man  in  love.  It  did  occur  to  him, 
but  not  as  a  fact  worthy  of  philosophical  analysis, 
that  his  tender  emotions  toward  Agnes  usually  be- 
stirred themselves  when  he  was  under  the  influence 
of  Miss  Leigh's  society.  He  had  never  been  the 
same  lazy,  unimpassioned  individual  as  before,  since 
he  had  met  her  that  day  in  Westminster  Abbey. 
He  reflected  that  if  he  had  known  her  first  he  might 
have  loved  her  with  more  intensity  than  his  affec- 
tion for  Agnes  would  probably  possess  in  case  that 
affection  became  something  more  than  the  present 
friendship. 

At  this  point  in  his  meditation  the  winds  and  the 
waves  asserted  themselves — or  the  mermaids  may 
have  thought  him  too  sentimental,  at  any  rate  a 
blinding  dash  of  spray  hit  him  full  in  the  face  and  he 
made  his  way  at  once  to  the  brilliant  cabin  where 
earls'  sons  and  prima  donnas  were  said  to  be  just 
then  on  exhibition. 

The  third  day  out,  there  came  a  strong  head  wind. 


MOONLIGHT   ON    THE    SEA.  103 

The  Victoria  swung  on  tremendous  waves.  Rush- 
more  missed  the  ladies  from  the  table  when  the 
cups  danced  gaily  about.  Miss  Lathrop  appeared 
once  or  twice  and  declared  that  no  one  of  her  party 
was  seasick,  only  they  were  all  a  little  tired.  She 
herself  was  too  listless  to  study  human  nature  as 
usual  or  even  to  be  teased  by  him.  It  was  evident 
that  he  must  await  calmer  weather  for  a  renewal 
of  social  life.  However,  that  same  evening,  as  he 
was  looking  over  the  books  in  the  library,  under 
the  cabin  sideboard,  he  saw  Mrs.  Melton,  for  the 
first  time.  She  was  sitting  near  an  electric  light, 
her  head  leaning  on  her  hand,  the  crimson  sleeve 
slipping  away  from  her  round  white  arm.  She 
looked  up  and  smiled  in  sudden  pleasure.  He  took 
the  chair  next  to  hers  and  said  cordially:  "  I  am 
very  glad  to  see  you  as  far  out  as  the  cabin,  but  you 
must  venture  on  deck  soon." 

"  I  have  been  up  there  several  times  about  twi- 
light." 

"  The  strong  light  on  the  water  affects  your  eyes 
disagreeably,  Miss  Lathrop  tells  me." 

"  It  might — I  tell  her  it  would,"  she  returned, 
with  a  half  mischievous  glance  and  then  a  timid  one 
as  if  he  must  think  hers  a  queer  remark.  He  might 
have  thought  so,  if  he  had  been  paying  attention,, 
but  he  happened  to  be  thinking,  with  a  transient 


104  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

admiration,  how  pretty  the  mellow  light  made  her 
look  in  the  high  colored  robe  with  her  hair  in  a  care- 
less coil. 

"I  am  old  enough  to  look  at  things  sensibly," 
she  went  on  somewhat  to  his  surprise.  "These 
new  friends  are  very  kind,  but  of  course  I  am  not 
with  them  on  a  social  equality." 

Catching  a  motion  of  Rushmore's  she  said*  quickly: 
"  I  know  you  Americans  are  very  generous  in  over- 
looking merely  arbitrary  barriers.  I  hope  Miss 
Leigh  will  like  me,  and  in  a  way  regard  me  as  a 
friend,  but  I  must  not,  by  becoming  too  familiar 
with  her  now,  make  it  harder  for  her  hereafter  to 
be  simply  one  of  my  patrons." 

Mr.  Rushmore  at  a  loss  or  the  right  thing  to  say, 
murmured  something  to  the  effect  that — she  "  had 
Miss  Lathrop  too,  a  sensible  warm-hearted  little  wo- 
man." She  assented  and  was  silent.  In  a  moment 
a  big  tear  dropped  on  the  open  page  of  the  book 
before  her,  and  another  glistened  on  her  long  down- 
cast eyelashes.  She  brushed  it  away  with  a  cun- 
ning pettishness  and  exclaimed:  "  I  do  feel  just  like 
a  foolish,  scared  child,  your  country  is  going  to  be 
so  strange  to  me.  I  see  that  I  was  very  reckless  to 
start  out  on  such  a  venture  !  " 

"  O,"  said  Rushmore,  with  a  cheering  laugh,  and 
the  kindliest  possible  tone,  "that  is  all  pure  nerv- 


MOONLIGHT   ON    THE    SEA.  105 

ousness;  it  will  vanish  the  moment  you  step  foot  on 
land.  I  assure  you  it  will  !  " 

"  Perhaps  it  will,  at  least  I  ought  to  thank  you  for 
the  encouragement  you  gave  Aunt  Cudlip  in  regard 
to  my  going  to  Waldenton.  It  decided  the  matter, 
and  it  was  exceedingly  kind." 

In  her  pathetic  effort  to  speak  hopefully  again,  she 
did  not  look  at  Rushmore's  startled  countenance. 
When  had  he  done  this  thing  ?  In  time,  he  recalled 
the  dialogue  over  the  weak  tea,  and  how  Mrs.  Cud- 
lip  had  discoursed  of  a  friend  unnamed  and  had  asked 
about  woman's  work  in  America.  He  was  inclined 
to  tell  Mrs.  Melton  that  she  had  no  especial  reason 
to  thank  him,  then  he  feared  such  a  speech  would 
depress  her  more  and  she  was  evidently  very  home- 
sick, so  he  was  silent. 

"  I  hate  sewing,"  she  confessed,  artlessly,  "I  hope 
I  won't  have  to  do  that.  I  can  write  very  fast  and 
plainly.  I  wonder  if  lawyers  have  much  copying, 
and  if  they  hire  it  done  for  them,  and  would  /  be 
likely  to  get  chances  to  do  such  work — do  you 
think  ? " 

A  few  weeks  before,  Rushmore  had  thought  Mrs. 
Cudlip's  poor,  respectable  female  friend  a  fool  to 
gather  up  her  little  tag-ends  of  talent  and  carry 
thern  to  a  far  market,  trusting  fortune  to  tell  her 
how  to  use  them  when  she  got  there.  He  thought 


106  EUNICE    LATHKOP,  SPINSTER. 

the  same  now;  but  the  fool  being  present  and  pretty, 
he  was  betrayed  into  saying  that  he  himself  was  a 
lawyer  and  he  would  bear  Mrs.  Melton's  case  in 
mind.  She  thanked  him  with  a  glance  and  a  word, 
but  not  with  any  vulgar  eagerness,  as  if  he  had 
bound  himself  by  a  promise  to  serve  her.  She  had 
the  delicacy  of  a  lady,  and  the  simplicity  of  one  who 
being  poor  is  not  ashamed  to  be  sincere;  or  so  Rush- 
more  reflected.  He  also  concluded  that  wordy,  old 
Lord  Kames  knew  what  he  was  telling  of  in  the 
"Elements  of  Criticism,"  he  studied  long  before; 
for  did  he  not  declare  that  a  beautiful  woman  in 
tears,  was  a  touching  object  to  behold.  Mrs.  Mel- 
ton was  quite  pretty,  she  had  shed  one  tear.  It 
certainly  was  right  that  he  should  be  proportion- 
ately affected. 

Next  day  on  coming  out  on  deck,  after  a  late 
breakfast,  Rushmore  discovered  Miss  Leigh  and  Miss 
Lathrop  under  an  awning  with  books  and  gay  worsted 
work. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  are  rested,"  he  said,  laughing 
as  he  approached  them.  "Yesterday  was  a  fatigu- 
ing day.  I  came  up  here  and  stretched  out  in  some- 
body's neglected  chair.  A  ship  and  a  shark  passed 
by  on  the  other  side,  but  I  was  too  'tired '  to  be  cu- 
rious. I  had  brought  up  a  book  that  proved  to  be 
worse  for  me  than  the  head  wind." 


MOONLIGHT    ON    THE    SEA.  107 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Miss  Lathrop. 

"  It  held  a  cruel  polysyllable,  and  in  my  weak  con- 
dition I  suddenly  encountered  the  word,  Nephelococ- 
cugaia.  Charles  Kingsley  put  it  there.  It  knocked 
me  flat;  and  yet  men  call  him  a  kind  man." 

"  That  reminds  me  that  Miss  Lathrop  says  we  are 
going  to  read  to-day,  or  to  let  you  read  to  us." 

"  Yes,  I  have  indulged  in  so  many  personalities 
lately,  I  am  actually  ashamed,"  explained  the  spin- 
ster. "  I  don't  mean  to  talk  about  people  any  more. 
There,  Annie,  there  is  the  Canadian  woman  that 
said  'American  girls  chattered  like  magpies,'  and 
that '  the  United  Sates  were  crazy  to  have  Canada  an- 
nexed '  ;  but  for  her  '  part  she  hoped  they  never 
would.'  The  idea  !  I  was  so  indignant  I  wanted  to 
shake  her." 

"  Oh,  you  have  backslidden  already,  Miss  La- 
throp !  Remember  Mrs.  Cudlip's  noble  example  ! 
Talk  to  us  of  atmospheric  currents,  of  psychical 
forces,  of  anything  vast  you  happen  to  think  of. 
Prepare  Miss  Leigh  for  the  lofty  converse  of  those 
five  o'clock  teas,  she  will  give — next  year." 

"  I  don't  seem  to  think  of  anything  except  the 
passengers,  they  are  so  queer,"  confessed  the  poor 
lady  meekly.  "  I  really  think  the  motion  of  the 
boat  affects  my  mind." 

She  fell  into  profound  meditation  after  that,  and 


I08  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

Rushmore  talked  to  Miss  Leigh  instead  of  being  lit- 
erary. He  had  a  whimsical  notion  Miss  Eunice  was 
right  about  the  waves  and  the  mind.  His  own 
thoughts  seemed  somewhat  after  their  fashion,  roll- 
ing wilfully,  playing  many  antics,  setting  toward 
I  what  shore  he  hardly  could  make  out.  To-day  he 
discoursed  on  certain  English  laws  in  regard  to  land, 
and  wondered  that  blue  eyes  could  be  so  expressive 
as  were  Miss  Leigh's.  He  finally  drew  her  on  to 
talk  about  herself,  and  reflected  upon  her  apparent 
characteristics.  The  progress  a  bright  scholar,  in- 
tent on  such  a  study,  can  make,  in  a  short  time,  is 
something  surprising.  The  research  did  not  grow 
less  interesting  when  the  faintest  self-consciousness 
became  apparent  in  her  fleeting  blushes,  when  she 
laughed  in  a  way  to  show  charming  dimples,  and  at 
last  grew  saucy  in  self-defence. 

Miss  Lathrop  slept,  her  sun  hat  tilted  over  her 
eyes,  a  volume  of  Scott  on  her  bosom. 

"  I  wish  you  could  make  her  do  what  I  want  to 
have  her  do,  Mr.  Rushmore,"  said  Annie,  with  a 
glance  at  the  sleeper. 

"  I  will,  if  I  perish  in  the  attempt." 

"  I  want  her  to  come  and  live  with  me.  She  is 
kind  and  sensible  and  very  entertaining;  she  can  do 
in  my  home  just  what  she  did  in  her  own." 

"  Of  course." 


MOONLIGHT    ON    THE    SEA.  109 

"  I  thought  she  had  consented  to  live  with  me, 
but  she  talked  of  it  to  Mrs.  Melton,  and  since  that 
talk  she  has  been  averse  to  the  plan.  Mrs.  Melton, 
owing  to  her  English  life,  I  presume,  has  exag- 
gerated ideas  of  what  her  responsibilities  would 
be.  Now  Miss  Lathrop  insists  that  there  are 
social  exigencies  and  peculiar  quirks  of  Upper 
Waldenton  life  that  she  would  not  be  equal  to 
at  all.  She » says  I  ought  to  take  Mrs.  Mel- 
ton herself,  for  she  has  seen  vastly  more  of  the 
world." 

"Nonsense !  perhaps  the  real  objection  is  that  she 
may  be  looked  upon  as  filling  some  menial  position. 
A  princess  of  the  blood  is  not  prouder  than  a  Mas- 
sachusetts spinster  of  good  family." 

"  No,  I  have  made  it  plain  to  her  that  I  want  a 
friend,  a  companion;  she  says  Mrs.  Melton  has  a  pol- 
ish that  she  lacks;  perhaps  that  is  true,  and  she  may 
find  her  permanent  place  in  the  house,  but  I  must 
have  Miss  Lathrop." 

"  I  will  do  my  best.  I  supposed  this  was  an  ar- 
rangement of  long  standing.  What  impelled  her  to 
come  for  you  ?  " 

"  Some  one  had  to  come,  and  a  Mr.  Irving  selected 
her  for  the  purpose." 

"John  Irving?  Oh,  certainly  it  must  have  been 
he." 


1 10  EUNICE    LATHROI\  SPINSTER. 

"  What  is  he  like  ?     She  admires  him  greatly." 

"  He  is  a  man,  head  and  shoulders  above  the 
crowd,  which  is  a  fine  thing  if  one  makes  noise 
enough.  He  does  not  do  it,  he  lacks  vanity;  he  is 
too  much  in  earnest.  If  he  does  not  have  the  right 
listener  he  keeps  still." 

"  Do  you  like  him  for  that  ? " 

"  I !  Oh  yes,  but  being  morally  taller  than  other 
people,  and  yet  not  taking  up  any  more  room  lit- 
erally, they  merely  step  on  his  toes  and  wonder 
what  he  wants  of  such  a  wide  outlook.  I  am  con- 
tent my  self  to  be  on  a  level  with — my  neighbor's 
eyes." 

The  lids  fell  over  a  certain  beautiful  pair  not  far 
away.  Miss  Lathrop  awoke  and  was  erect  at  once, 
signalling  the  deck  steward  she  ordered  up  ham- 
sandwiches  and  black  tea.  She  awoke,  but  not  to 
realize  that  eternal  vigilance  is  often  the  price  of  a 
maiden's  liberty.  While  she  slumbered,  the  winds 
and  the  waves,  the  sunbeams  and  the  light  from  hu- 
man eyes  might  be  playing  tricks  with  her  precious 
charge.  When  she  mused,  nightly,  she  thought  of 
fire,  shipwreck,  of  the  "deep"  that  "boiled  like 
a  pot,"  of  "  Leviathan "  himself;  but  she  never 
once  reflected  that  there  was  a  risk  of  which  insur- 
ance companies  took  no  note.  No,  she  ate  her 
lunch  serenely  and  whispered  to  Annie,  "  I  have 


MOONLIGHT    ON    THE    SEA.  Ill 

more  appetite  up  here  than  below.  That  William 
Henry,  our  waiter,  is  so  fat  and  so  slow.  He  grins 
so  helplessly  when  they  all  call  to  him  at  once  and 
he  does  not  go  to  anybody — that  it  is  quite  pathetic; 
— and  I  have  seen  him  fly  off  and  wipe  his  face  on 
the  napkins,  behind  the  door." 

"  I  am  going  below  a  while,"  said  Annie,  not  pay- 
ing much  attention,  but  thinking  it  a  good  time  to 
leave  Rushmore  to  work  in  her  behalf.  Compre- 
hending her  design  he  exerted  himself  to  carry  out 
her  wishes;  later  he  fancied  that  his  eloquence  had 
not  been  without  effect. 

In  the  six  days  that  remained  of  the  voyage, 
Rushmore  once  or  twice  recalled  that  tender  reverie, 
that  pensive  season  spent  with  the  mermaids  and  he 
concluded  that  his  emotions  had  been  a  little  over- 
wrought. If  Agnes  was  the  best  woman  in  the 
world,  Annie  Leigh  was  the  most  charming.  He 
soberly  questioned  if  Agnes  were  not  too  good  for 
him.  She  probably  did  not  love  him  yet;  if  he 
awakened  her  interests  in  him  and  then  fell  short 
(as  doubtless  he  should  fall)  of  her  standard  of  ex- 
cellence she  would  suffer.  It  might  be  a  heroic  sac- 
rifice to  the  highest  love,  which  regards  most  the 
good  of  the  one  beloved,  to  renounce  Agnes  and  try 
to  win  Annie  who,  equally  lovable,  was  rather  more 
human.  That  was  high  ground  to  dwell  upon,  he 


112  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

slid  off  on  a  lower  plane.  Perhaps  he  was  not  in 
love  with  Agnes  at  all,  perhaps  he  had  conceitedly 
taken  a  great  deal  for  granted  in  fancying  she  could 
be  easily  wooed  and  won.  In  short  the  gentleman 
resolved  at  last  to  wait — to  deal  justly  by  each  fair 
lady  and  wisely  by  himself. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

Three  Episodes  in  the  Life  of  a  Small  Nobleman. 

nnHERE  was  a  great  sameness  about  life  at  old 
•*•  St.  Guthlac's  Asylum.  Small  events  made 
deep  impressions  upon  Guy.  One  day  the  "  end 
boy  "  in  the  procession  that  followed  the  priests  up 
the  steps  to  the  Cathedral  altar — that  boy  fell  ill, 
and  Guy  was  put  into  his  scarlet  petticoat  and  as- 
sisted in  the  celebration  of  solemn  high  Mass.  The 
priest,  who  in  full  canonicals,  elevated  the  Host 
could  not  have  felt  his  dignity  as  did  the  little  nod- 
ding image  at  the  tail  of  the  procession.  He  looked 
every  whit  as  angelic  as  either  one  of  Domenichino's 
cherubs  who  swing  so  airily  out  upon  nothing  at  the 
Communion  of  St.  Jerome.  He  asked  Sister  Ursula, 
that  night,  if  his  sins  were  not  all  forgiven,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  imposing  display  he  had  made  of  him- 
self in  the  cause  of  religion.  She  said  if  he  were 
truly  sorry  for  putting  all  the  salt  in  his  neighbor's 
porridge  and  never  again  run  away  behind  the  Ca- 
thedral to  gamble  for  ha'pennies  with  newly  arrived 


114  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

and  wicked  orphans — perhaps  his  sins  were  absolved. 
The  Second  episode,  one  day  later,  was  not  specta- 
cular and  by  no  means  pious. 

Sister  Ursula  had  been  sent  to  sweep  the  Lady 
Chapel,  never  used  now,  but  often  looked  into  by 
curious  visitors.  Guy  followed,  though  he  liked  noth- 
ing there  but  an  old  daub  of  a  painting,  on  wood,  of 
St.  Guthlac  tormented  by  demons.  It  was  in  three 
panels.  On  the  second  St.  Bartholomew  comes  to  his 
aid.  In  the  third  Old  Guthlac  lays  about  him  with 
a  cat-o'-nine  tails  and  makes  a  rushing  time  among 
the  imps.  Guy  was  wondering  if  his  own  favorite 
(because  weakly  and  knock-kneed)  demon,  could 
possibly  have  escaped  with  a  whole  skin — when  he 
heard  Father  Dominick's  voice  outside  the  door. 
He  appeared  in  a  moment,  followed  by  a  military 
man,  and  a  boy  a  head  taller  than  Guy  himself.  The 
man  was  big  and  black  and  hoarse,  a  sort  of  a  bull 
frog  in  uniform.  It  was  the  boy,  however,  who  was 
at  once  the  object  of  Guy's  aversion.  He  was  fat, 
bullet  headed,  with  sly  light  eyes — a  young  gentle- 
man evidently,  for  he  wore  a  silk  felt  hat,  a  black 
roundabout,  long  pantaloons  and  kid  gloves.  Our 
recluse  felt  an  intense  desire  to  throw  mud  at  him 
when  he  grinned  very  aggressively. 

"There  he  is,"  exclaimed  Father  Dominick  point- 
ing out  Guy  and  calling,  "  Come  here,  boy  !  " 


THREE    EPISODES.  115 

Sister  Ursula  stopped  sweeping  to  listen,  but  the 
priest  having  summoned  Guy  left  him  to  the  stran- 
gers and  drew  the  Sister  away  from  them,  talking 
to  her  in  an  undertone. 

"  What  is  your  name  young  man  ? "  asked  the 
military  person  with  the  original  of  the  grin  the  son 
had  inherited. 

"  Number  Six,  sir,"  said  Guy  begrudging  him 
anything  so  personal  as  his  short  name. 

The  priest  smiled,  but  at  the  question,  not  the 
answer. 

"Six  what  ? " 

"  Sixth  Catholic  Male  Orphan." 

"  Nonsense  !     What  do  the  boys  call  you  ?  " 

"  Guy." 

"  And  you  have  been  no  end  happy  in  this  nice 
quiet  home,  I  suppose." 

The  porridge-fed  boy  catching  a  leer  of  the  pud- 
ding-fed one,  promptly  said:  "Yes,  sir."  and  knew 
that  he  would  say  the  same  had  he  suffered  daily 
previous  tortures. 

"Well,  my  son — that  is — little  boy,  who  put  you 
here  ? " 

"  God." 

"  Indeed  !  Then — I  hope  He  will  keep  you  here," 
stammered  the  military  gentleman,  "but  in  the  past, 
somebody  quite  different,  has  paid  your  board.  This 


Il6  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER, 

is  not  a  free  institution,  by  any  means.  If  you 
were  not  kept  here  where  do  you  think  you  would 
be  ? " 

"  In  the  deserts  of  Egypt." 

"Thunder!  Well  if  you  go  to  Africa,  I  know 
who  is  going  to  India,  and  it  is  the  party  that 
has  paid  quarterly  for  your  bread  and  butter.  He 
can't  do  it  any  longer.  He  wishes  you  to  say 
that  to  any  whom  it  may  concern.  Where  is  your 
mother  ? " 

Guy's  eyes  seemed  turned  inward,  looking  for  her 
in  his  heart  perhaps,  not  finding  her  there,  he  coolly 
nodded  his  curly  head  in  the  direction  of  the  South 
transept  of  St.  Guthlac's  and  replied:  "She  is  in 
there." 

The  Colonel  looked  up  startled  at  the  priest. 

"  No,  the  little  simpleton  doesn't  know  what  he 
means,"  said  Father  Dominick. 

"  I  mean  Lady  Kew,"  said  Guy  stubbornly. 

"  And  I  told  you  only  yesterday  she  had  been 
dead  two  hundred  years  and  more." 

"  I  know  it." 

The  military  mirth  subsiding,  the  military  voice 
put  in:  "  If  the  old  lady  ever  wakes  up  and  asks 
what  is  going  to  be  done  with  you,  tell  her  that  is 
for  her  to  say  hereafter.  She  has  kept  in  the  back- 
ground long  enough.  There,  run  away  !  " 


THREE    EPISODES.  117 

Flinging  Guy  a  sixpence,  the  Colonel  turned  again 
to  the  priest,  saying:  "  Proceed  as  I  have  directed. 
'Tis  not  merely  the  money — but  the  thing  will  get 
more  awkward  as  time  goes  on.  When  I  have 
sailed,  take  the  first  step." 

The  priest  nodded.  Sister  Ursula  trembled  as  she 
went  on  with  her  sweeping.  The  green-eyed  boy 
had  made  faces  during  this  interview.  He  was  now 
very  wrathy  at  sight  of  a  sixpence  going  to  a  No- 
body numbered  Six,  instead  of  a  young  Somebody 
like  himself.  He  waited  for  his  father  to  go  and 
examine  a  bit  of  Saxon  wall  built  into  the  chapel, 
then  he  opened  warfare.  Guy,  gone  back  to  the 
mediaeval  demons,  suddenly  heard  the  latter-day 
imp  whisper:  "You  nah-sty  male  orphan,  give  me  up 
that  sixpence."  „ 

Guy  forgot  to  raise  the  battle-cry:  "By  the  power 
of  St.  Guthlac  ! " — but  he  flew  at  his  tormentor  and 
whacked  his  silky  broadcloth  till  he  yelped  for  mercy 
— till  father,  priest,  and  sister  came  to  the  rescue. 
The  Colonel  was  moved  to  laugh  immoderately  and 
Guy  fled  away  at  a  sign  from  Sister  Ursula. 

A  long  time  after,  she  found  him  as  usual  cross- 
legged  on  the  tithing-table.  He  expected  a  chid- 
ing, perhaps  to  be  sent  supperless  to  bed.  She  only 
turned  up  his  hair  and  looked  long  and  earnestly  in 
his  face. 


Il8  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

"  Have  I  got  a  black  and  blue  spot  ? "  asked  the 
boy. 

"  You  don't  look  like — as  I  should  think  you 
would.  Your  mother  must  have — " 

"Was  not  Lady  Kew  my  mother  ?  I  like  her.  I 
think  she  might  have  been,  only  before  Father 
Dominick  came  here." 

"  Well — child,  in  a  choice  of  stone  women,  you 
might  as  well  take  what  suits  you  best.  The  father 
will  tease  you  after  this  and  call  you  little  Lord 
Kew  !  " 

"  Let  him,  it  is  a  fine  name,"  said  Guy,  and  it  was 
well  he  thought  so,  for  by  that  name  he  was  called 
so  long  as  he  staid  at  St.  Guthlac's. 

The  sister  lifted  him  lovingly  down  to  the  floor, 
as  if  he  were  a  baby,  then  he  followed  her  to  the 
dining-hall,  where  she  set  out  the  bowls  and  plates, 
off  which  he  had  all  his  life  eaten  his  daily  bread, 
each  time  thanking  a  Father  in  heaven  for  it.  Who 
was  this  that  came  claiming  to-day  that  he  had 
provided  the  bread  ?  Lord  Kew  never  gave  him  a 
second  thought. 

His  third  experience  was  more  prolonged  and 
important  in  all  respects.  One  night,  stretched  on 
his  little  pallet,  he  was  awakened  out  of  sound 
slumber  by  gentle  shaking  and  soft  kisses.  A 
bright  street-lamp  made  the  long  iron-bedded  cor- 


THREE    EPISODES.  119 

ridor  not  quite  dark.  A  tall  black  figure  bent  over 
him,  and  by  the  coarse  sleeve  brushing  his  warm 
cheek,  he  knew  it  to  be  Sister  Ursula. 

"What  are  you  choking  me  for  ?"  he  asked  curi- 
ously. If  she  were  doing  it,  she  no  doubt  had  ex- 
cellent reasons. 

"  I  am  only  giving  you  something  to  wear,  Guy, 
as  long  as  you  live." 

He  followed,  with  his  fingers,  the  flat  string  just 
put  about  his  neck,  and  the  tiny  bag  it  held  over 
his  heart. 

"  Is  it  your  holy  bone,  Sister  Ursula  ? " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  Whose  bone  ?  " 

"Some  blessed  one's.  I  have  never  known  whose. 
Now,  where  are  your  beads  ? " 

"  There — "  He  jingled  them,  as  they  hung  at 
the  head  of  his  bed. 

"Well,  now,  promise  me  you  will  never  give  up 
your  religion — never  will  be  made  into  a  heretic. 
You  are  a  baptized  child  of  the  Church." 

"  Are  these  my  religion — the  bones  and  things?" 

"  These  and  all  I  have  ever  taught  you." 

"Oh,  I  won't  ever  forget  the  stories"  said  Guy, 
stroking  her  rugged  face.  He  knew  he  could  not. 
His  brain  was  crammed  with  a  fascinating  lore.  He 
held  groups  of  the  other  children  agape  with  won- 


120  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

der,  while  he  embellished  her  sufficiently  strange 
first  narration.  Her  miraculous  dragons  multiplied 
tenfold  in  his  fancy.  Her  saints — what  were  they 
not  to  Guy  ? 

All  at  once  she  moaned:  "You  are  going — really 
going,  to-morrow,  Guy  !  Oh,  I  never  believed  it 
would  come,  after  all ! "  She  put  her  head  on  his 
breast  and  sobbed.  A  warm,  human  love  must  be 
torn  out  of  her  heart.  In  her  hurt  she  must  strug- 
gle to  offer  up  her  sorrow  to  placate  the  Highest  for 
the  sin  of  that  love.  Poor  Sister  Ursula !  She 
expected  he  would  cling  to  her  and  protest,  when 
she  said:  "Father  Dominick  will  take  you  in  the 
morning  ! " 

"  Where  ? " 

"I  don't  know." 

He  turned  to  look  down  all  the  little  humps  in  the 
beds — sole  proofs  of  the  other  male  "orphans"  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  said:  "I  am  glad." 

" To  leave  me? " 

"  No,  I  love  you." 

"  I  have  cared  for  you  since  you  were  a  little 
babe." 

"  Only  an  inch  long — like  a  little  worm  ! " 

"Well,  a  trifle  longer,  but  short  enough.  Now, 
how  can  you  be  glad  ?  " 

"I  cannot  tell." 


THREE    EPISODES.  121 

"  It  is  your  ignorance.  May  the  saints  keep  you 
from  a  knowledge  to  make  you  miserable  !  Now  go 
to  sleep.  I  may  not  see  you  again — "  She  waited  a 
moment,  then  faltered,  "  God  bless  you  !  " 

"  He  will,"  returned  Lord  Kew  cheerfully,  "but  the 
holy  bone  scratches  me.  I'd  rather  wear  it  down  my 
back  in  the  daytime.  Good-night,  Sister  Ursula  !  " 

The  tears  rained  on  her  robe,  they  fell  into  his 
tangled  hair  and  made  new  beads  on  his  little  ro- 
sary, then  she  saw  a  light  approaching  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  turning,  fled  into  the  opposite  darkness, 
out  of  sight,  out  of  our  story. 

Next  morning  Guy  went  thoughtlessly  as  ever  to 
the  crypt-like,  cobwebby  old  chapel  under  St.  Guth- 
lac's  nave,  where  the  orphans  sang  or  whined  les- 
sons nasally  in  unison;  but  soon  Father  Dominick  ap- 
peared on  the  scene  and  sent  the  child  to  get  ready 
to  go  with  him  in  half  an  hour.  Guy  washed  his 
face  at  the  fountain  in  the  old  cloister,  looked  in  vain 
for  Sister  Ursula,  tied  up  together  his  few  possessions 
and  then  remembered  a  boy  who,  going  away,  had 
made  a  great  ado  over  his  leave-taking;  so  he  him- 
self went  interviewing  various  male  orphans.  To 
his  favorite,  a  hollow-eyed  chap,  whose  vigor  and 
color  had  all  struck  in  to  his  imagination,  he  whis- 
pered his  hopes  of  living  in  the  cave  and  being  fed 
by  the  long  talked  of  birds  and  beasts.  The  hoi- 


122  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

low-eyed  told  him  a  secret.  Did  Guy  recall  a  cer- 
tain walk  taken  by  the  orphans,  en  masse,  past  Tra- 
!  falgar  Square  ?  He  did.  Well,  when  he  himself 
should  go  out,  there  would  be  a  notable  miracle. 
Guy  might  seek  a  lion  in  Egypt;  but  his  own  would 
be  one  of  the  magnificent  four  in  the  Square,  and 
life  and  breath  would  come  into  it.  At  his  beck  it 
would  sometime  follow  him  out  on  his  career.  Here 
was  ambition  and  forethought,  indeed  !  Guy  gasped 
before  he  cried  out:  "Why  can't  I  have  another — 
and  leave  two,  then,"  he  generously  added,  thinking 
of  the  public.  His  solemn  friend  nodded  in  myste- 
rious sympathy  and  assent. 

"  Come,  hasten,"  cried   Father   Dominick   taking 
his  way  through  the  Cathedral  into  the  street,  and 
Guy  following,  was  thereby  reminded  of  other  old 
friends.     A  flying  kiss  on  Lady  Kew's  pink  nose  a 
presumptuous  slap  on  his  lordship's  cold  stomach, 
a  hug  for  the  hound  waiting  at  the  gate  of  purgatory, 
a  bow  before  the  altar  as  he  ran,  little  feet  skip- 
ping over  memorial  paving-stones,  then  the  great 
{ oak  doors  of  St.  Guthlac  shut  behind  him  forever 
i  Soon  the  London  noises  were  deadening  his  chatter, 
and    Father   Dominick   could    not  be   enticed  into 
passing  Trafalgar  Square  by  any  hints  or  persuasion. 
"Where  am  I  going  ?  "  at  last  it  came  to  him  to 
ask. 


THREE    EPISODES.  123 

"  To  St.  Bridget's  soon,  no  doubt." 

"  I  won't  go  there." 

He  dodged  in  time  to  escape  a  rap  on  the  ear,  and 
let  a  ride  on  the  underground  railway  divert  his  mind 
until  they  arrived  in  Fitzroy  Square. 

Mrs.  Cudlip  was  at  home.  She  entered  the  din- 
ing-room, where  the  priest  had  seated  himself,  and 
barely  greeted  him,  in  her  surprise.  He  looked  at 
her,  then  significantly  at  the  child,  and  coolly  waited 
until  she  exclaimed:  "Is  this  the  boy — Mrs.  Mel- 
ton's I  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  But  what  possible  use  is  there  in  bringing  him 
to  me  ?  I  explained — " 

"  Beg  pardon,  madam,  we  can't  take  the  next  step. 
Mrs.  Melton,  or  you,  acting  for  her,  must  do  that. 
St.  Guthlac's  Asylum  is  not  free,  you  know  that. 
You  have  been  informed  that  the  friend  who  has 
paid  hitherto  will  do  so  no  more.  He  has  left  the 
country.  We  cannot  keep  the  boy  another  day. 
Now  we  have  a  branch  asylum — St.  Bridget's;  if  the 
mother  gives  up  all  claim  to  the  child  during  his 
minority,  he  will  be  received  there  and  educated,  a 
Catholic,  of  course.  '  But  we  cannot  send  him  to  St. 
Bridget's  unauthorized,  perhaps  to  have  her  remove 
him  in  a  year  or  two." 

Mrs.  Cudlip  appeared  relieved,  then  puzzled.    She 


124  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

drew  back  the  curtain  and  looked  at  Guy.  He  was 
very  pretty.  She  had  never  thought  of  the  asylum 
child  as  having  big  bright  eyes  and  a  roguish  mouth. 

"Mrs.  Melton's  business  affairs  are  a  great  annoy- 
ance to  me,"  she  said,  dropping  the  curtain.  "  She 
is  in  America.  If  she  were  here,  she  would  say  put 
him  in  St.  Bridget's,  I  have  no  doubt." 

"  Have  you  not  power  to  say  it  for  her  ? " 

Mrs.  Cudlip  only  gazed  at  the  wire  cover  of  the 
big  cheese-plate  on  her  lunch-table.  She  had  seen 
St.  Bridget's  once;  she  remembered  it  was  dark  and 
dirty. 

Guy  laid  his  hand  on  hers,  looked  at  a  biscuit, 
and  said,  "I  am  hungry." 

She  gave  him  a  lunch,  offered  the  priest  some 
hospitality,  and  said  at  last,  "  I  must  consider  the 
matter;  leave  the  boy  now,  and  when  I  decide  on 
St.  Bridget's,  as  I  probably  shall,  I  will  ask  your  help 
in  entering  him.  You  have  my  thanks  for  trouble 
already  taken." 

The  priest  bowed,  gave  her  a  few  more  explana- 
tions, and  departed. 

Guy  never  went  to  St.  Bridget's.  The  Scientist 
was  in  arrears  for  his  board.  Mrs.  Cudlip  coolly 
gave  him  Guy  for  a  bedfellow.  He  endured  it  be- 
cause he  was  often  absent  attending  spiritualistic  se- 
ances, and  daytimes,  if  he  were  home,  Guy  black- 


THREE    EPISODES.  125 

ed  his  boots  and  told  him  of  ecclesiastical  appari- 
tions that  went  far  ahead  of  any  he  himself  had 
ever  witnessed.  The  drab-haired  girl  made  him  an 
assistant  in  filling  water  jugs  and  answering  the  bell. 
He  washed  dishes  and  curly  greens  for  the  cook. 
Mrs.  Cudlip  let  him  eat  these  greens — eat  them 
largely,  freely.  She  considered  curly  greens  a  fill- 
ing and  a  healthy  article  of  food.  Lord  Kew  was 
content.  He  could  endure  considerable  solitude,  he 
had  no  aversion  to  salad. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

Not  according  to  Order. 

IV  /TISS  LEIGH  had  been  home  several  weeks. 
•L*-*-  Light  and  air  poured  into  the  great  rooms. 
The  claw-legged  tables  held  flowers.  Miss  Eunice's 
tidies  made  gay  the  solemn  chairs,  bright  awnings 
shaded  the  windows,  cosey  seats  were  all  about  the 
piazzas  and  the  close-shaven  lawn.  Annie  sang 
around  the  house  like  the  merriest  child — unless  so- 
ciety touched  her  door-bell  with  its  kid  glove,  then 
she  assumed  all  the  dignity  required  by  Waldenton, 
and  even  impressed  it  as  being  charming  enough  to 
have  been  bred  as  well  as  born  there.  One  morning 
she  appeared  to  Miss  Lathrop  dressed  for  a  walk, 
and  after  lingering  a  while,  asked  unexpectedly, 
"  Do  you  know  any  ministers'  families  in  middle- 
town  ? " 

"Yes;  several  of  them." 

Annie  played  with  the  hat-bow  under  her  pretty 
chin,  laughing  as  she  said,  "  I  want  to  serve  Mr. 


NOT  ACCORDING    TO    ORDER.  127 

Rushmore  a  little  trick.  He  is  always  telling  me  of 
a  friend  of  his — an  Agnes — I  have  forgotten  the  oth- 
er name,  if  I  have  ever  heard  it;  she  is  pretty  and  a 
minister's  daughter." 

"  In  middle-town  ?  " 

"Yes;  and  I  have  associated  her  with  the  gloomi- 
est thing  imaginable — a  graveyard." 

"  I  know  now,"  cried  Miss  Lathrop,  waving  her 
crochet  needle.  "  Hathaway  ! — Agnes  Hathaway; 
they  do  live  right  by  the  First  Church,  with  no  end 
of  tombstones  near  enough  to  their  house  to  make 
your  flesh  creep." 

"  Tell  me  where  it  is  at  once.  I  want  to  get  a 
friend  to  talk  about  to  Mr.  Rushmore  some  day." 

"  When  we  were  riding  last  night  I  showed  you 
where  the  Irvings  live." 

"  Yes,  I  remember." 

"  It  is  scarcely  a  stone's  throw,  east  from  there." 

The  young  girl  started  in  high  glee.  Miss  Lathrop 
was  greatly  puzzled  to  know  how  she  would  do  what 
she  proposed.  Annie  did  not  herself  know,  but  she 
wound  about  the  hill  down  past  the  "door-yards" 
full  of  pinks  and  violets.  The  streets  grew  nar- 
rower, the  sidewalks  were  of  brick  not  stone,  and 
soon  she  saw  the  square  towers  of  the  church,  yes, 
and  there  were  the  mossy  graves  and  the  little  par- 
sonage at  one  side. 


128  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

"It  is  not  gloomy  in  the  sunshine.  The  church 
door  is  open.  I  believe  I  will  look  in,"  she  said  to 
herself.  She  walked  into  the  porch,  peered  down 
the  central  aisle.  She  would  certainly  have  been 
surprised  to  find  the  minister's  daughter  awaiting 
her  on  the  threshold;  but  failing  of  it,  she  concluded 
that  she  must  go  home  and  ask  Miss  Lathrop  to  ask 
Mrs.  Irving  to  introduce  her  to  this  Agnes,  in  the 
conventional  way.  She  gazed  at  the  bare  walls, 
murmured:  "No  painting,  no  carving,  and  what 
ugly  pillars  !  What  if  I  were  the  minister's  daughter 
and  sat  behind  one  here  every  Sunday  ? " 

The  better  to  imagine  the  reality,  she  slipped 
into  a  straight-backed  pew  and  laid  hold  of  a  dog- 
eared hymn  book.  Now  it  chanced  that  just  when 
Miss  Leigh  entered  the  church,  the  Reverend  Bela, 
gazing  through  his  study  window,  saw  her. 

"Agnes,"  he  called,  "there  is  a  young  woman 
in  search  of  me.  Will  you  go  over  to  the  church  to 
see  what  she  wants,  and  if  it  is  not  necessary,  do  not 
disturb  me." 

Agnes  put  down  her  sewing  and  went  at  once. 
She  saw  no  one,  on  first  coming  out  of  the  sunlight 
into  the  dimness,  and  so  went  quickly  down  the 
aisle — suddenly  stopping,  for  she  discovered  above 
a  dark  pew  back  a  head  of  pale  golden  hair  bent  over 
a  battered  book.  It  would  be  hard  to  say  which  was 


NOT   ACCORDING    TO    ORDER.  129 

the  more  surprised;  the  girl  whose  dreamy  blue  eyes 
when  uplifted,  darkened  and  then  grew  brilliant,  or 
Agnes  gravely  regarding  her. 

"  I  came  into  the  church  a  moment  to — to  look 
about  !  I  am  a  stranger  in  Waldenton.  I  sat  down 
and  forgot  myself." 

"Don't  let  me  disturb  you;  my  father  thought 
some  one  might  be  trying  to  find  him.  This  is  as 
•old  a  church  as  any  in  the  town,  and  it  interests  a 
great  many  persons,"  said  Agnes,  turning  to  go 
away. 

"You  are  Miss  Hathaway,  perhaps,"  said  Annie, 
smiling  radiantly  and  coming  out  to  intercept,  in 
the  least  degree,  Agnes's  way  of  escape. 

"I  am,"  returned  Agnes,  wonderingly. 

"  I  " — a  big  clump  of  pansies  dropped  out  of  her 
belt;  as  they  stooped  together  to  pick  them  up,  she 
added,  "  I  am  Annie  Leigh." 

"  Indeed  !  I  was  stupid  not  to  have  guessed  it. 
Mr.  Irving  has  often  spoken  of  you." 

"  Yes,  he  was  a  friend  of  my  father." 

She  divided  the  pansies  and  gracefully  insisted 
upon  putting  half  of  them  in  Agnes's  white  morning 
dress — "  I  have  given  you  all  the  golden  ones,"  she 
said;  "they  go  best  with  your  dark  hair  and  the 
long,  white  dress  folds — you  don't  look  at  all  as  I 
thought  you  would.  I  have  heard  about  you." 


130  EUNICE    LATHROP   SPINSTER. 

"Heard  of  me?" 

"Yes;   have  you  not  a  friend,   Mr.  Rushmore?" 

Agnes's  face  was  quite  white.  Annie  nervously 
disposing  of  her  own  purple  pansies,  went  on:  "  He 
happened  to  meet  me  in  England  and  later  to  cross 
the  ocean  with  us.  I  asked  him  much  about  people 
here,  of  the  young  ladies  especially,  and  he  said 
he  had  a  friend  I  might  know — I —  Well,  I  should 
be  very  happy  if  any  one  had  such  a  lovely  idea 
of  me  as  he  has  of  you." 

Agnes's  olive  cheeks  glowed  and  Annie's  were 
rose  pink  now,  but  neither  looked  directly  at  the 
other,  until  Miss  Leigh  said:  "The  truth  is  I  came 
here  to-day  hoping,  by  some  chance,  to  see  you ! 
It  was  perverse  in  me;  but  I  could  not  wait  for  him 
to  make  us  known  to  each  other.  I  wish  I  might 
be  your  friend.  Everybody  is  new  to  me  here;  I  must 
find  each  out  for  myself;  but  Mr.  Rushmore  says 
wonderful  things  of  you  !  " 

"  I  am  not  wonderful.  I  am  a  plain  girl  without 
any  accomplishments.  Sometimes,  I  feel  not  at  all 
young  even.  I  am  sure  you  are  everything  that  I 
am  not." 

"  Oh,  that  is  cruel,"  cried  Annie  impetuously,  "  for 
I  do  try  to  be  good  and  lovable  too." 

Agnes  smiling  said,  "  I  meant  to  praise  you." 

"  Could  you  like  me  ?  " 


NOT  ACCORDING    TO    ORDER.  131 

"  Immediately." 

"  Then  you  shall  !  " 

Annie's  hands  flew  up  to  take  Agnes's  face  in  a 
soft  grasp,  while  she  kissed  it  like  an  impulsive 
child;  exclaiming,  "  Now  you  will  come  and  visit  me 
in  the  old  castle  on  the  hill  and  I  can  get  into  the 
cunning  little  parsonage,  I  have  been  peeping  at. 
We  will  bide  our  time  to  surprise  his  lordship,  Mr. 
Rushmore.  How  formal  he  might  have  made  our 
meeting  !  I  like  to  have  a  choice  about  everything, 
don't  you  ? " 

"  I  seldom  have  opportunities  to  choose — things 
come  to  me.  I  do  not  try  to  alter  them,  they  are 
almost  always  good — as  to-day  you  came.  I  did 
not  have  to  try  to  find  you." 

"  How  I  hope  I  won't  prove  the  exception  to  your 
rule  of  "  good  "  things,"  said  Annie,  softly. 

They  were  silent  a  second.  Annie  picked  up  the 
hymn  book,  and  put  in  torn  leaves  with  elaborate 
care,  as  she  remarked:  "  You  have  known  Mr.  Rush- 
more  a  long  time." 

"  Two  years." 

"  And  I  have  known  him  hardly  as  many  months 
He  is  very  companionable.  Now  let  me  go  with  you 
a  while,  if  I  am  not  interrupting  you  in  any  way." 

She  twined  her  little  jewelled  fingers  in  Agnes's, 
and  was  led,  at  once,  through  the  churchyard  into 


132  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

the  house,  where  she  made  a  prolonged  visit  and 
went  away,  leaving  Agnes  charmed  with  her. 

To  be  sure,  the  latter  did  turn  over  the  question  in 
her  mind,  repeatedly,  why  Mr.  Rushmore  had  not 
spoken  of  Miss  Leigh.  On  his  return  from  Europe, 
he  had  come  promptly  to  visit  her,  and  had  seemed 
the  same  blithe,  genial  friend,  who  went  away.  He 
had,  of  late,  to  Mr.  Hathaway's  relief,  seemed  occu- 
pied with  his  professional  duties;  there  was  no  more 
reading  of  Richter  or  Lessing,  no  more  invasions  of 
the  organ-loft  at  unseemly  hours.  Agnes  herself 
was  glad  of  it;  she  liked  earnestness.  But  she  had 
seen  him  often  enough  to  have  been  told  of  Annie. 
He  must  have  intended  to  give  her  a  pleasing  sur- 
prise. She  pondered  on  the  fact  that  he  had  talked 
of  her  to  this  other  young  girl,  and  how  Annie  had 
said:  "  I  should  be  very  happy  if  any  one  had  such  a 
lovely  idea  of  me,  as  he  has  of  you." 

She  was  happy.  She  seemed  all  day,  to  be  away 
on  the  hills  that  she  could  see  glowing  in  sunshine; 
the  lightest  shadow  that  flittered  across  them,  only 
falling  out  from  some  wandering  cloud,  itself  radiant. 


CHAPTER   X. 

The  Spinster  Speaks — but  Vaguely. 

OLD  Peleg  Irving  loved  his  fellowmen.  He  loved 
to  hear  what  taxes  they  paid,  what  doctrines 
they  held,  and  if  their  sons  or  daughters  were  inclined 
to  consumption  or  to  matrimony.  His  wife  had  no 
social  enthusiasms  of  this  sort  (at  least  no  purpose- 
less ones),  and  John  inherited  from  her,  the  habit  of 
minding  his  own  business.  The  old  gentleman  was 
suffering  one  day,  from  ennui.  He  had  tormented 
the  minister  with  all  his  old  devices,  and  had  no  new 
ones  to  put  in  operation;  nothing  could  have  pleased 
him  better,  than  the  gift  the  gods  just  then  bestowed: 
a  visit  from  Miss  Eunice  Lathrop. 

"  Mother,  mother,"  he  cried.  "  The  prodigal  has 
arrived,  all  dressed  in  purple  and  fine  linen  ! " 

His  wife  came  in  time  to  see  him  gallantly  salute 
the  spinster,  with  a  sounding  kiss. 

"  Why,  Father  Irving  !  you  are  your  old  self  every 
time." 


134  EUNICE    LATHKOP,  SPINSTER. 

"  Certainly,  Miss  Pink  !  Now  off  with  your  wrap- 
ping papers,  and  let  U9  have  a  long  itinerary.  You 
have  been  going  to  and  fro  in  the  earth,  walking  up 
and  down  in  it,  like  Satan  and — " 

"  Why,  Mr.  Irving  !  " 

"  Oh,  with  motives  quite  dissimilar  of  course. 
What  have  you  seen  or  done  ?  that  is  the  point." 

He  drew  out  an  easy-chair,  while  Mrs:  Irving  said: 
"  Yes,  we  are  delighted  to  see  you,  Eunice;  you  must 
stay  to  tea." 

"Well,  if  you  really  want  to  have  me  stay,"  said 
Miss  Lathrop,  yielding  up  her  bonnet  and  shawl. 

Much  friendly  chatter  ensued;  she,  sweetly  con- 
scious that  she  had  seen  a  bit  of  the  world,  tried  to 
pass  it  off  as  a  trifle,  it  seemed  more  modest,  when 
she  connected  herself  with  said  world,  to  assume 
that  it  was  not  such  a  tremendous  thing  as  people 
who  staid  at  home  were  led  to  believe — still  she 
made  the  most  of  her  own  experiences.  Old  Peleg 
was  no  ignoramus;  but  a  man  may  read  all  the  do- 
ings of  Parliament,  and  yet  like  to  hear  a  lively 
tongued  woman  tell  about  the  pink  silk  stockings 
of  the  Lord  Mayor's  lackey,  and  how  her  first  rash 
thought  on  beholding  them  was — that  he  might  be 
the  Prince  of  Wales. 

Husband  and  wife  sat  intent,  while  Miss  Eunice, 
rocking,  fanning,  little  curls  bobbing,  sailed  the  seas 


THE    SPINSTER    SPEAKS— BUT   VAGUELY.       135 

over — around  and  back,  through  the  ' '  horrid  "  custom- 
house with  four  yards  of  black  velvet  sewed  on  to 
her  petticoat  for  a  temporary  flounce.  Then  she 
paused  for  breath,  and  Peleg  had  time  to  get  curious 
about  affairs  nearer  home. 

"John  says  you  are  going  to  stay  the  year  out 
with  Miss  Leigh." 

"  Yes,  she  urges  me  so  strongly.  The  old  house 
is  cheerful,  and  she  is  a  dear,  good  girl." 

"  There  is  a  Mrs.  Melton  up  there.  John  couldn't 
tell  us  just  what  position  she  occupied." 

"  I  did  not  ask  him,"  said  Mrs.  Irving,  calmly. 

"  Well  I  did." 

"  I  don't  know.  Miss  Leigh  does  not  know.  I 
doubt  if  Mrs.  Melton  herself  knows,"  commented 
Miss  Lathrop,  slowly.  "  The  fact  is  (between  our- 
selves) I  think  we  are  in  a  delicate  position;  nobody 
wants  to  make  the  first  move." 

"How  is  that?"  asked  Peleg,  drawing  his  chair 
nearer,  and  wondering  that  his  wife  could  take  that 
time  to  go  for  her  knitting* 

"All  the  way  across  the  ocean,  Mrs.  Melton  was 
so  retiring  and  plaintive  that  it  really  distressed  one; 
but  at  last  Miss  Leigh  made  her  feel  more  like  one 
of  the  party  and  drew  her  into  our  talks  on  deck. 
The  son  of  old  Ashley  Rushmore,  the  banker,  was 
on  board — your  bank  president's  son,  Mr.  Irving, — 


136  EUNICE    LATHKOP,  SPINSTER. 

I  forgot  that  you  must  know  all  about  him.  He  is  a 
a  great  friend  of  Miss  Leigh.  When  he  heard  that 
Mrs.  Melton  was  poor,  and  coming  over  here  with 
Miss  Leigh,  and  wanted  to  get  some  sort  of  employ- 
ment, he  was  kind  to  her  and  she  brightened  up 
amazingly.  She  is  not  exactly  handsome;  but  you 
look  at  her  when  she  talks  or  moves  !  She  has  a 
way  of  smiling  up  sideways  with  her  eyes  half  shut, 
that  is  rather  fascinating." 

Peleg  instantly  tried  it  on  his  venerable  phiz  and 
failing,  by  a  fearful  grimace,  cheerfully  proposed: 
"You  do  it,  Eunice!     I  don't  seem  to  get  it  nat- 
ural." 

"I  don't  believe  it  is  natural;  but  it  works  well 
with  her;  however,  we  got  home,  she  has  taste;  she 
has  helped  to  make  the  old  house  very  pretty.  Her 
own  dress  is  simple  but  always  so — so  sort  of  artis- 
tic it  almost  seems  improper,  if  you  know  what  I 
mean." 

"She  appears  to  be  a  knowing  one,"  said  Peleg. 
"  Is  she  English  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  not  in  her  dress.  Oh  my  conscience  ! 
how  those  people  do  rig  themselves,  over  there ! 
white  feathers  in  the  rain,  and  silver  neck-chains,  as 
heavy  as  if  they  had  melted  up  the  family  spoons. 
Well  as  I  was  going  on  to  say,  people  are  constantly 
calling  at  the  house,  and  seeing  another  lady,  young 


THE    SPINSTER   SPEAKS — BUT  VAGUELY.       137 

and  attractive,  they  suppose  her  to  be  a  friend  of 
Miss  Leigh,  or  a  relative,  and  are  very  polite  to 
her,  even  ask  her  to  call  and  all  that.  However,  I 
will  admit  that  she  shows  some  tact;  she  answers: 
'  I  shall  not  be  here  long,'  and  of  course  in  her  pres- 
ence, Miss  Leigh  cannot  explain  why  she  is  not  go- 
ing into  society." 

"  Why  does  she  not  slip  away  when  callers  come  ? " 

"  She  does  not — though  she  is  never  bold  or  for- 
ward. Mr.  Rushmore  .(the  young  man  of  course), 
calls  very  often,  then  she  makes  herself  exceedingly 
agreeable.  She  can  sing  soft,  sweet  ballads,  and 
talk  about  some  astonishing  sort  of  lunatics  in  Lon- 
don that  she  admires — ^Esthetes,  she  calls  them,  I 
believe." 

"What  are  their  doctrines?"  cried  Peleg,  prompt- 
ly, with  thoughts  of  the  Rev.  Bela  and  new  tor- 
tures. 

"  I  never  gathered  that  they  had  any  religion,  if 
that's  what  you're  after.  As  to  Mrs.  Melton,  Annie 
says  sometimes,  it  seems  a  pity  that  she  could  not 
live  a  life  of  ease,  there  is  nothing  she  would  like 
better." 

"  But,  if  she  has  self-respect,  she  does  not  wish  to 
live  it  at  Miss  Leigh's  expense,  does  she  ? "  asked 
Mrs.  Irving. 

"No — o — o.     Often  when  Mr.  Rushmore  is  there, 


138  EUNICE    LATHKOP,  SPINSTER. 

she  talks  in  a  pretty  outspoken  way,  of  her  poverty 
and  her  intention  of  getting  employment,  if  she 
does  hate  work." 

"  Then  I  see  no  difficulty  or  delicacy.  She  merely 
expects  you  to  help  her  get  it,  as  you  ought  to  help 
her,  having  promised  her  you  would  do  it." 

"  Of  course,  Mrs.  Irving,  but — that  is  not  the 
point." 

"  What  is  then  ?  Do  you  want  her  to  go,  or  does 
Miss  Leigh  ? " 

Miss  Eunice  was  put  about  for  an  answer,  then 
she  exclaimed,  "  I  don't  think  I  can  make  it  plain. 
I  had  better  hold  my  peace." 

"Do  you  like  her?"  asked  old  Peleg  with  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye. 

"I  think  it  is  a  sin,  Mr.  Irving,  for  a  Christian 
woman  to — to  say  she  don't  like  a  person,  without 
bringing  some  charges  against  that  person,"  said 
Eunice,  in  virtuous  abstraction. 

"  Are  you  a  sinner,  Eunice  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"I  thought  so!  Pretty  big  house,  old  Leigh  built, 
but  then,  few  mansions  are  roomy  enough  for  a 
pretty  girl,  a  fascinating  widow  and  a  regular  out 
and  out  old  maid.  Yes,  I'd  sacrifice  the  wid — " 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  Peleg  Ir- 
ving!" cried  Miss  Eunice,  "sitting  there  shaking  up 


THE    SPINSTER    SPEAKS — BUT  VAGUELY.       139 

and  down  !  How  could  I  be  jealous  of  her,  we  never 
come  in  collision." 

"  Don't  mind  him,  Eunice,  he  don't  mean  any- 
thing." 

"  No,  Mrs.  Irving,  /only  mean  I  do  not  feel  drawn 
toward  her  any  more  in  a  human  warm  way  than  I 
did  to  the  headless  Athene,  in  the  British  Museum 
that  everybody  admires,  though  it  is  not  a  head  this 
woman  lacks.  You've  heard  of  the  Elgin  Marbles?" 
she  added  apologetically.  If  one  has  travelled, 
one  must  make  these  allusions,  while  not  wishing  to 
seem  pedantic. 

Peleg  nodded  and  hinted  that  the  anatomical  de- 
ficiency, in  the  widow's  case,  might  be  a  heart. 

"  I  half  believe  it.  I  am  afraid  of  her.  She  never 
shows  curiosity;  but  I  know  she  sees  every  pin  in  a 
cushion.  She  draws  me  into  aimless  talks  (they 
seem  so)  and  I  tell  her  what  I  had  better  keep  to 
myself.  Now  I  have  an  idea  that  I'd  like  you  to 
mention  to  John.  He  is  nowadays  consulting  Miss 
Leigh  on  many  business  matters,  and  I  heard  him 
speak  of  a  house  he  rents  for  her  in  apartments. 
How  would  it  do  for  me  to  suggest  that  Annie 
should  let  her  have  rooms  there,  rent  free,  until  she 
might  be  quite  able  to  pay.  Miss  Leigh  has  given 
her  no  end  of  this  new  fangled  art  embroidery  to 
do  for  her,  at  the  very  highest  prices,  and  she  says 


140  EUNICE    LA  THRO P,    SPINSTER. 

she  can  get  many  orders  for  it  any  time  that  Mrs. 
Melton  is  ready  to  take  them.  People  have  a  craze 
for  it  up  town." 

"  I  will  tell  John  what  you  wish  me  to  repeat. 
He  will  say  he  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  said  Mrs. 
1  Irving  gravely.  She  was  troubled  about  Miss  Eu- 
nice's moral  attitude  toward  the  widow. 

Peleg  did  think  she  was  jealous,  but  being  a  wo- 
man he  was  sure  she  could  not  help  it.  He  renewed 
his  questions  on  another  line.  "  So  Rushmore  runs 
there,  does  he  ?  Smitten  at  all,  is  he  ?  " 

He,  thinking  now  of  the  young  heiress,  was  sur- 
prised by  the  answer.  "  Well,  if  he  is  not,  it  is  not 
her  fault,  and  that  is  all  I  will  say  about  that  widow, 
and  you  can  call  me  a  gossip  if  you  must  !  " 

Peleg  puckered  his  lips  for  an  inaudible  whistle, 
and  Mrs.  Irving,  sure  he  had  heard  quite  enough  for 
one  time,  asked  Miss  Lathrop  if  she  went  to  hear 
Spurgeon  preach  and  what  she  thought  of  him. 

At  nine  o'clock,  after  a  pleasant  little  visit,  Miss 
Eunice  arose  to  tie  on  her  bonnet,  in  Mrs.  Irving's 
bedroom,  and  have  a  word  in  private  with  her,  be- 
fore she  went  home. 

"  You  think,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  plump  hand 
on  Mrs.  Irving's  shoulder,  "that  I  am  hard  on  Mrs. 
Melton.  I  am  afraid  of  her,  for  Annie's  sake.  She 
is  tricky..  I  could  not  say  it  out  before  your  hus- 


THE  ^SPINSTER    SPEAKS — BUT  VAGUELY.       141 

band;  but  she  is  very  sly.  She  brought  three  times 
as  much  money  from  England  as  she  said  she 
brought.  I  happened  to  find  it  out." 

"  That  is  nothing.  It  is  not  noble-minded  to  be 
suspicious;  she  thought  perhaps,  if  she  told  just 
what  amount  she  had,  you  would  not  do  so  much 
for  her." 

"Very  well,  but  I  saw  her  open  Miss  Annie's-desk 
and  read  a  letter.  I  was  behind  the  door  watching 
her,  I  freely  confess  that.  Was  that  a  pretty  thing 
for  her  to  do  ?  " 

"  No,  it  was  mean;  but  why  did  you  not  tell  Miss 
Leigh,  instead  of  coming  to  me  ?" 

"Because  I  know  I  don't  like  Mrs.  Melton,  but 
Annie  does  not  dislike  her  yet.  When  I  am  sure 
Mrs.  Melton  has  a  home  of  her  own,  I  might  tell — 
now  it  seems  like  being  willing  to  injure  her.  I 
want  John  to  help  me  get  her  away  in  a  reasonable 
and  friendly  manner. 

"  I  understand  that  you  are  never  malicious  Eu- 
nice, but  be  very  wise  and  have  charity.  Neither 
you  nor  I  could  read  another's  letter;  but  a  very 
inquisitive  person  might  and  not  be  altogether 
wicked.  Perhaps  Miss  Leigh  sent  her  to  the  desk 
to  read  it,  for  some  reason  or  other." 

"  Very  well,  we  will  let  the  matter  rest,"  said  Miss 
Lathrop  dryly.  "Don't  speak  to  John  at  all,  please." 


142  EUNICE    LATHROP,  SPINSTER. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  shall  do  so,"  returned  the  lady  calmly. 
"Do  come  again,  Eunice,  as  you  would  come  to 
your  own  mother's  house." 

"I  am  sure  I  thank  you,"  was  the  stiff  response. 

Old  Peleg  went  home  with  the  maiden  lady,  but 
he  added  no  new  items  to  his  stock  of  news  in 
trade.  On  the  brow  of  the  hill,  by  the  Leigh  gate, 
she  broke  out: 

"  Your  wife  the  same  as  cuffed  my  ears  to-night, 
and  I  suppose  I  deserve  it.  I  know  it  is  vulgar  to 
talk  '  personalities.'  I  said  to  myself,  only  last  Sun- 
day, that  I  would  come  here  to  tea  and  talk  high 
art,  and  European  travel,  and  all  I  knew  about  the 
architecture  of  St.  Paul's  (the  very  last  thing  I 
learned).  I  get  off  guard,  Satan  gives  me  a  push, 
and  there  I  am  talking  about  folks,  folks  /" 

"Of  course;  it  all  comes  of  your  being  one  of 
them,"  said  Peleg,  soothingly,  "  don't  lay  it  to  the 
devil  !  Why  when  people  talk  astronomy,  half  the 
time,  it  is  only  the  man  in  the  moon  they  are  after. 
We  can't  get  free  of  one  another.  Take  the  parson 
and  me  in  some  of  our  talks,  for  instance.  We  go 
soaring  off  on  the  wings  of  sanctified  imagination 
until  you  wouldn't  suppose  we'd  even  be  intelligible 
to  common  mortals  again,  much  less  affected  by 
their  sentiments,  but  we  are.  Law  me,  yes  !  He 
gets  hopping  mad  if  I  chance  to  tell  him  Deacon 


THE   SPINSTER    SPEAKS — BUT  VAGUELY.       143 

Phelps  thinks  he  repeats  himself  in  his  sermons — 
mad  I  mean  in  a  ministerial  way.  Oh,  I'm  sure, 
while  we  are  human,  humanity  will  be  pretty  in- 
teresting to  every  one  of  us  and  we  will  all  talk 
more  gossip  than  pure  philosophy." 

"  But  they  don't  do  so  in  Boston." 

"Well,  Eunice,  sometimes  I  think  about  living 
there,  as  I  do  about  heaven.  If  I  have  to  wear  my 
Sunday  swallow-tail  every  day,  I  will  have  a  Sun- 
day frame  of  mind  to  do  it  in.  Now  being  outside 
of  both  places  I  run  around  in  metaphorical  shirt- 
sleeves sometimes  and  talk  whatever  comes  into 
my  head." 

"  And  yet  you  seem  a  kind  of  a  philosopher 
too.  Well,  good-night  !  Tell  Mrs.  Irving  I  for- 
give her;  she  is  too  good  to  quarrel  with,  but  she II 
see,  mark  my  words  for  that !  Good-by.  I'm  real 
glad  you're  better  of  the  rheumatism  this  year." 


CHAPTER    XI. 
A    Genre    Picture. 

TV  /TR.  RUSHMORE  was  quietly  amused  in  these 
*•*•*  days,  by  the  study  of  feminine  tactics.  He 
perceived  that  Miss  Eunice  did  not  like  Mrs.  Melton; 
she  seemed  to  be  continually  sinning,  relenting,  re- 
penting, backsliding, — wishing  the  widow  well  in  the 
future,  detesting  her  in  the  present.  Mrs.  Melton, 
for  her  part,  was  as  unmoved  by  this  disturbance  of 
the  spinster's  moral  equipoise  as  is  the  slant-eyed 
lady  on  a  Japanese  fan,  by  the  neighbor  toppling 
on  to  her  head,  or  the  perspective  all  awry.  She 
clad  herself  in  peculiar  robes  and,  if  always  in  sight, 
was  pleasant  to  look  upon.  She  appealed  to  Rush- 
more  in  little  ingenuous  ways,  asked  his  advice, 
flattered  him  by  prettily  expressed  gratitude,  and 
by  a  not  expressed,  but  somehow  implied,  child- 
like admiration.  However,  it  was  not  to  study  Miss 
Lathrop,  or  to  be  admired  by  Mrs.  Melton,  that 
Rushmore  came. so  often  to  the  old  Leigh  house. 


A    GENRE    PICTURE.  145 

He  knew  his  own  mind  at  last.  Every  hour  he 
spent  with  Annie  convinced  him  that  she  was  the 
one  for  whom  he  had  been  waiting, — the  one  he  had 
once  fancied  he  might  be  going  to  find  in  Agnes. 
So  ardent  was  his  present  passion  that  he  easily 
persuaded  himself  Agnes  could  feef  nothing  for  him 
but  friendship;  for  in  his  previous  state  of  mind, 
surely  he  had  expressed  in  word  or  deed  nothing 
like  the  love  which  now  enkindled  him.  He  thought 
very  little  of  her  anyway,  because  he  had  simply 
never  understood  her.  He  had  picked  her  up,  as 
he  might  a  little  antique  missal,  admired  the  dainty 
cover,  believed  the  illuminations  mystically  beauti- 
ful and  the  context  half  inspired;  but  could  not  tell 
afterwards  the  language  in  which  the  whole  was 
written. 

At  all  suitable  seasons  Rushmore  was  now  in 
Annie  Leigh's  society,  and  if  he  read  her  smiles,  her 
eyes  and  her  shy,  sweet  moods  aright,  he  was  rap- 
idly winning  favor.  About  five  o'clock,  one  mid- 
summer afternoon,  he  stepped  into  the  cool  parlor 
and  awaited  her  there.  A  maid  came  to  tell  him 
Miss  Leigh  had  gone  to  ride,  but  she  would  probably 
return  soon.  He  took  a  book,  but  did  not  read;  he 
sat  thinking  that  it  was  as  pleasant  an  ugly  room 
as  could  be  found.  The  wall  paper  gleamed  with 
great  golden  lilies.  The  carpet,  woven  in  one 


146  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

piece,  was  a  huge  landscape,  where  one  walked 
over  castles,  lakes,  mountains  and  sunsets.  There 
was  bright  modern  furniture,  and  some  that  was  odd 
and  ancient,  a  harpsichord  and  two  grotesque 
screens.  He  was  looking  at  the  multitude  of  queer 
vases,  all  filled  with  the  garden  flowers,  when  a  soft 
voice  in  the  door  said,  "  Can  you  give  me  a  moment, 
while  you  wait,  Mr.  Rushmore  ? " 

"With  pleasure,  Mrs.  Melton." 

He  followed  her  to  a  seat  near  the  open  window. 
She  looked  her  best  in  one  of  her  singular,  but 
striking  costumes.  One  would  first  think  of  her  as 
belonging  to  another  time  or  place,  then  be  con- 
scious that  she  was  surely  of  the  sensuous  present, 
and  had  an  elusive  charm  of  face,  voice  and  motion. 

"  Miss  Leigh  is  so  good — no  sister  could  be  kinder 
— but  I  am  turning  over  in  my  mind  what  to  do- 
next." 

Rushmore  was  silent.  Why  did  she  tell  him  so 
many  of  these  things  ? 

"  Miss  Lathrop  is  a  worthy  soul,  but  she  imagines 
I  trespass  a  little  on  her  territory  in  being  here, 
so  she  does  not  like  me.  I  think  I  will  go  into 
apartments.  Will  you  let  me  know  if  you  hear  of 
any  suitable  for  me  to  engage  ?  I  meant  to  consult 
Miss  Leigh,  and  I  spoke  to  Miss  Lathrop  about  it. 
Her  reply  made  me  a  little  angry.  She  said  that 


A    GENRE    PICTURE.  147 

Miss  Leigh  did  have  houses  to  rent  and  no  doubt 
she  would  give  me  the  rent  free  if  I  asked  her  for 
rooms,  as  if  I  had  meant  that.  I  am  not  a  beggar. 
I  am  proud  and  naughty.  Now  I  prefer  to  rent  my 
rooms  of  an  entire  stranger,"  she  laughed  wilfully, 
showing  all  her  even  white  teeth. 

Rushmore,  secretly  annoyed,  assured  her  he  would 
make  some  inquiries;  but  advised  her  to  search  the 
advertisements  in  the  daily  papers.  She  gazed  ab- 
sently through  the  window,  sighed,  then  abruptly 
exclaimed:  "  I  am  so  perplexed  !  So  down-hearted  ! " 

She  drew  a  letter  forth,  as  if  to  read  it,  then  thrust 
it  back  into  her  pocket. 

"  There  is  a  matter  I  must  attend  to  at  once,  and 
I  don't  know  which  way  to  turn.  You  all  know  I 
am  a  widow  without  a  relative,  except  Mrs.  Cudlip; 
there  is  something  else  I  never  talked  of,  it  grieved 
me  so — !  I  had  to  leave  my  own  dear  little  child  in 
England,  Mr.  Rushmore  !  Friends  there,  well  able 
to  care  of  him,  kindly  did  so,  while  I  tossed  about 
the  world,  and  earned  my  daily  bread.  I  came  to 
America  knowing  he  would  be  in  the  best  of  care 
until  I  could  send  for  him.  Poor  little  Guy,  he  is 
not  ten  years  old  yet.  She  looked  mournfully  at 
Rushmore,  who  remarked  sympathetically:  "It  must 
indeed  have  been  very  hard  for  you  to  part  with  him, 
Mrs.  Melton." 


148  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

She  struggled  with  a  sob. 

"  Last  week  I  had  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Cudlip.  She 
says  that  very  soon  after  I  sailed,  the  child  was  sent 
to  her,  because  the  friends  who  had  him,  suddenly 
made  great  household  changes,  and  could  not  keep 
him  any  longer.  Mrs.  Cudlip  is  entirely  unused  to 
children.  I  can  see  she  thinks  that  he  will  be  a 
great  trouble  and  an  expense  to  her — you  know  Mrs. 
Cudlip  is  a  little  penurious." 

Rushmore  smiled,  but  discreetly. 

"  Now  would 'it  be  feasible,  or  would  it  be  foolhardy 
for  me  to  try  and  get  him  over  here  ?  If  I  can  sup- 
port myself,  can  I  hot  also  take  care  of  a  little  one  ?" 
she  urged  feelingly. 

In  view  of  the  fact  that  she  never  had  attempted 
this  feat,  the  question  was  open  for  more  considera- 
tion than  Rushmore  gave  it,  but  he  reasoned  on 
general  principles,  and  replied:  "I  have  no  doubt 
of  it." 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  think  as  I  hoped  you  might. 
Now,  as  soon  as  I  have  started  out  for  myself,  I 
must  go  to  work  and  find  out  about  the  cost  of  get- 
ting him  here,  and  the  best  way.  Children  are  some- 
times sent  on  voyages  alone,  aren't  they?"  she  asked, 
with  quick  maternal  solicitude. 

"  Oh,  frequently  !  You  talk  it  all  over  with  the 
ladies,  they  will  be  very  enthusiastic,  I  have  no 


A    GENRE    PICTUKE.  149 

doubt,  and  they  are  a  thousand  times  brighter  than 
men  ever  are  in  such  matters.  I  will  make  any  in- 
quiries, of  course." 

"  No,  I  won't  talk  to  them  of  it,  Mr.  Rushmore  ! 
I  will  not.  I  don't  want  anything  but  advice,  so  I 
come  to  you.  To  go  to  Miss  Leigh,  as  we  are  sit- 
uated, is  virtually  to  say:  "  Help  me  !  Help  me 
more  !  Keep  on  helping  me  !  I  won't.  I  can  see 
now  Miss  Lathrop  smiling  sarcastically,  as  if  she  said 
to  herself  that  I  was  on  their  hands,  and  they  must 
endure  it  like  Christians." 

"  You  do  both  ladies  great  injustice.  Miss  Leigh 
is  very  generous — " 

"  So  I  will  not  impose  upon  her." 

"  Miss  Lathrop  has  whims — you  also  have  a  few, 
like  this  foolish  pride — but  she  is  kind  and  a  new 
claim — " 

"  I  don't  want  to  make  claims,"  pouted  the  wid- 
ow. "  I  want  to  be  grateful,  but  not  dependent  for 
a  day  longer  than  I  can  help.  Poor  little  Guy ! "  she 
broke  out,  with  sudden  pathos,  and  tearfully. 

Rushmore  pulled  a  long  thread  out  of  Miss  Eu- 
nice's best  tidy,  and  wished  devoutly  that  all  these 
fine  creatures  could  live  together  and  be  lovely. 
Miss  Leigh  certainly  was  lovely — Mrs.  Melton  was 
lovable,  so  after  all  Miss  Eunice  must  be  the  can- 
tankerous one.  To  his  surprise,  the  widow's  next 


150  EUNICE    LATH  HOP,    SPINSTER. 

remark  was  a  sprightly  one  about  the  harpsichord; 
she  told  him  how  Miss  Leigh  had  brought  a  tune 
out  of  it  the  day  before. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  could  do  the  same,  Mrs. 
Melton,"  he  returned.  "  Won't  you  try  ?  " 

She  murmured  something  about  amusing  him  un- 
til Miss  Leigh  came;  then  rising,  she  ran  her  fingers 
over  the  few  still,  musical  keys,  humming  a  ballad: 

"  In  the  mild  beaming  blossoming  month  of  May, 
The  maidens  of  Tubingen  dance  and  play; 
They  danced  one  eve  as  the  day  grew  pale, 
Round  the  old  lime  in  the  Neckar  vale." 

There  was  more  about  a  "  stranger "  and  the 
"fairest  maid";  but  Rushmore  was  looking,  not 
listening.  When  she  stopped  he  said:  "You  make 
a  genre  picture,  two  hundred  years  old." 

She  laughed,  turned  and  looked  out  at  the  gate, 
then  said:  "Miss  Annie  is  coming.  I  will  tell  her 
you  are  here,  the  maid  may  not  know  you  waited." 

But  first  she  came  with  a  little  impulsive  gesture 
and  grasped  his  hand  in  her  small  nervous  one:  "I 
thank  you  so  much  for  sympathy.  I  get  so  lonely 
in  this  big  America  of  yours;  but  don't  tell  Miss 
Leigh  I  am  not  happy;  it  would  hurt  her." 

Rushmore  scarcely  heeded  her.  The  coming  lady 
put  all  thoughts  of  the  present  one  to  flight. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

The  Rev.  Bela  speaks. 

MRS.  IRVING  gave  her  son  a  brief  report  of 
Miss  Eunice's  visit  and  her  message  to  him. 
She  received  the  answer  she  expected:  "All  I  have 
to  do  with  Miss  Leigh  is  to  help  her  carry  out  her 
father's  will.  I  owe  Miss  Eunice  a  good  turn  for 
going  to  London;  but  I  can't  meddle  in  women's 
squabbles." 

His  business  took  him  often  to  the  house,  how- 
ever, and  he  observed  that  Rushmore  was  a  frequent 
caller,  coming  and  going  as  quietly,  as  informally  as 
he  had  previously  done  at  the  parsonage.  Irving 
was  at  a  loss  to  understand  matters  when  he  met 
Agnes  once  or  twice  and  found  her  looking  well  and 
contented.  One  afternoon  he  had  called  to  get  Miss 
Leigh's  signature  to  a  paper  and  was  sitting  with  her 
before  her  father's  old  "  secretary,"  examining  other 
papers.  The  business  matter  ended,  they  talked  of 
other  things.  While  so  engaged  they  heard  the  iron 
gate  clang  sharply  after  some  one,  then  distin- 


152  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

guished  a  man's  step.  John  looking  over  her  head 
saw  Rushmore.  Miss  Leigh  renewed  the  conver- 
sation animatedly,  as  one  brightened  by  a  pleas- 
ant thought.  John  prepared  to  end  the  interview 
by  saying: 

"  My  mother  wishes  me  to  tell  you,  Miss  Leigh, 
that,  not  being  very  well,  she  seldom  goes  out,  but 
she  will  call  upon  you  soon." 

"Thank  her  for  me,  please;  tell  her  I  know  she 
is  not  strong,  and  I,  being  so  much  younger  than 
she,  will  give  myself  the  pleasure  of  going  to  see 
her.  Miss  Lathrop  will  take  me  informally.  That 
part  of  Waldenton  where  you  live  is  very  pretty.  I 
have  found  a  friend  hidden  away  down  there  in  the 
vines  and  shadows." 

"  Do  I  know  her  or  him  ? " 

"Yes;  Miss  Hathaway." 

"She  is  a  very  lovely  girl;  an  old  friend  of  Mr. 
Rushmore's.  He  has  told  you  much  about  her,  I 
presume." 

"  Yes — but  he  never  told  her  anything  about  me" 
returned  Annie  simply — and  this  fact,  which  had 
puzzled  two  women,  was  also  significant  to  Irving. 
In  Rushmore's  love  for  Agnes  he  had  never  fully  be- 
lieved, even  when  he  feared  he  might  win  her.  He 
was  convinced  that  she  loved  Rushmore,  and  that 
he  had  trifled  with  her  by  being  lover-like  and  yet 


THE    REV.    BEL  A    SPEAKS.  153 

less  than  in  earnest.  He  believed  that  he  had  kept 
her  from  the  knowledge  of  Annie  to  keep  her  as  well 
from  suspecting  him  of  fickleness.  What  could  he, 
John  Irving,  loving  Agnes,  do  for  her  ?  The  thought 
that  came  to  him  was  like  him.  He  would  use  him- 
self without  hope  of  gain  to  himself — with  perhaps 
a  possible  loss  of  a  better  chance  in  the  future.  He 
would  go  now  and  utter  into  her  ear  words  that, 
costing  him  much,  would  grieve  her;  but  some  day 
when  she  was  wrapt  in  gloom  his  message  might 
flutter  back  like  a  songless  bird,  helpless,  but  warm 
and  living.  If  the  time  came  when  alone  with  her 
heart  she  realized  that  she  had  put  down  at  Rush- 
more's  feet  a  treasure  and  he  had  walked  carelessly 
over  it  and  away  forever,  she  would  be  secretly  hu- 
miliated. He  would  like  her  to  be  able  then  to 
reflect:  "There  is  another  man  who  would  have 
thought  this  gift  of  mine  priceless,  and  so  I  know 
my  love  cannot  be  worthless."  This  was  in  John 
Irving's  mind  all  that  day  after  he  left  Annie.  His 
resolution  taken,  he  was  as  restless  as  if  his  suit 
were  not  hopeless,  while  sympathy  gave  him  new 
boldness. 

On  Saturday  evenings,  Mrs.  Irving  usually  sent  a 
basket  of  flowers  to  the  parsonage,  and  Agnes  filled 
them  into  two  great  vases  to  stand,  on  Sunday, 
either  side  the  dark  pulpit.  John  promptly  seized 


154  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

the  basket,  one  night,  and  offered  to  take  the  flow- 
ers himself.  He  met  Agnes  in  the  door,  and  re- 
marked composedly.  "  You  need  my  help  with 
these  to-night;  you  don't  study  effects.  Last  Sun- 
day, the  whole  mass  of  red  was  put  as  a  back- 
ground for  all  the  red  hair  in  the  Price  family  pew. 
What  sort  of  a  contrast  is  that  !  " 

"Come  and  help  then,  by  all  means,"  she  returned 
serenely.  "  You  may  begin  by  carrying  the  water- 
pot  while  I  bring  strings  and  scissors,  with  the 
flowers." 

They  went  into  the  church  just  at  sunset. 

"  I  am  leaving  the  light  all  behind  me,"  said  John, 
rather  dolefully  as  they  entered  the  dim  porch. 

"  Nobody  is  urging  you  into  the  shadows — stay 
out  of  them,  if  you  like,"  laughed  Agnes. 

"No,  I  won't;  you  need  me — or  will."  She  ex- 
pressed great  doubt  on  his  assertion,  and  continued 
to  make  fun  of  his  stiff  arrangement  of  flowers  and 
general  masculine  awkwardness. 

"  I  remember  well,  the  first  gay  flowers  I  ever  put 
here,"  she  exclaimed.  "Father  thought  it  a  sort  of 
profanation  of  the  place;  but  he  gave  up  to  me  at 
last." 

"  Then  you  were  a  shy  girl,  in  a  wide  straw  hat 
that  I  never  could  peep  under." 

"  You  did  not  come  to  church  for  that." 


THE    REV.    BEL  A    SPEAKS.  155 

"  Perhaps  I  did,  I  have  done  it  since." 

She  laughed,  taking  this  as  not  personal;  there 
were  many  bonnets  besides  hers  in  the  church, 
Sundays. 

"  Now,  is  not  that  vase  beautiful  ? "  she  asked,  at 
last.  "  It  is  the  one  bit  of  color  and  loveliness 
here." 

John  who  saw  something  else  there,  lovelier  than 
the  flowers,  merely  said:  "Don't  hurry  away.  I 
want  to  speak  to  you  of  something." 

She  gathered  up  stray  ferns  and  blossoms,  before 
she  seated  herself  quietly  on  the  pulpit  stairs.  He 
put  himself  a  little  lower,  where  he  could  see  her 
face  and  keep  her  there  quietly,  until  she  had  heard 
enough. 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

"  I  love  you." 

She  half  sprung  up,  and  put  out  her  hand,  as  if  to 
ward  off  something. 

"  Don't  go — don't ! "  he  urged,  touching  it  to 
impel  her  gently  back.  "I  knew  you  would  be 
startled,  but  you  must  let  me  speak — it  will  be 
better." 

"  Oh  I  would  not  let  myself  think — I  was  afraid — " 
she  stammered,  her  eyes  and  voice  full  of  tears. 

"You  thought  you  could  keep  me  always  silent, 
and  I  would  not  know  myself,  but  that  is  not  the 


156  EUNICE    LATH  KG  P,    SPINSTER. 

\yisest  way,"  he  interposed,  hurriedly,  then  earnestly, 
John  told  her  what  always  makes  a  noble  woman 
incapable  of  vanity  and  only  glad  or  sorry:  the  truth 
that  one  loves  her  well  enough  to  live  for  or  to  die 
for  her.  He  confessed  the  long  waiting,  the  fears, 
the  love  that  amounted  to  adoration,  and  Agnes, 
hearing  of  those  last  few  years  could  scarcely  be- 
lieve this  could  be  her  self-contained  friend,  silent 
John  Irving.  He  was  not  in  reality  asking  for  her 
love;  he  was  making  known  his  own,  the  difference 
made  him  eloquent.  She  must  be  made  to  see  that 
all  a  man  could  give  was  hers,  not  to  be  taken  back. 
His  faith,  everything  unselfish  in  his  love  or  life, 
should  be  a  free  gift  to  her,  even  though  she  did 
not  take  the  giver. 

If  he  seemed  extravagant,  she  knew  he  was  sin- 
cere, yet  when  her  first  few  pitiful  words  came,  she 
vaguely  wondered  that  he  accepted  them  as  final, 
and  urged  no  reconsideration  or  asked  for  no  proba- 
tion. He  only  reached  up  and  took  her  small  hand 
firmly  in  his  bigger  one,  while  her  tears  dropped  on 
it,  saying:  "Agnes,  listen  a  moment  longer.  Up 
there  over  your  head  is  the  Bible,  where  your  father 
reads  the  holiest  words  that  you  think  you  ever 
hear.  Now,  as  if  my  hand  were  there  on  it,  I  hold 
yours  here,  and  I  tell  you  that  all  I  have  said  is  the 
truth  which  a  man  can  only  say  to  the  woman  to 


THE    REV.    BEL  A    SPEAKS.  157 

whom  next  to  the  Highest  he  gives  the  holiest  love 
he  can  ever  know  while  he  is  in  the  body.  Don't 
be  sorry,  love  is  not  a  bargain — so  much  for  so 
much.  I  offer  just  a  gift  now.  If  you  ever  lose  faith 
in — humanity,  remember  that.  If  you  ever  wish 
you  were  out  there  in  the  graveyard,  remember  I 
believe  more  in  Heaven  for  knowing  you  and  your 
life.  I  am  not  going  to  run  away  from  you  after 
this,  as  if  I  were  afraid  of  you,  and  if  you  ever  can 
need  me,  I  am  here." 

He  leaned  over,  touched  his  lips  to  her  hair.  She 
sat  distressed,  not  offering  to  rise.  He  having  ex- 
pected nothing  had  no  sudden  disappointment  to 
conquer.  She  divined  all  at  once  there  must  be  a 
reason  for  his  calmness  and  said  pleadingly, 

"You  don't  blame  me.  You  did  not  think  I  loved 
you.  It  would  be  fearful  to  deceive  in  that  way,  no 
matter  how  innocently  it  were  done  !  " 

"I  never  can  blame  you;  you  cannot  help  being 
Agnes,  and  because  you  are  Agnes,  I  cannot  help 
loving  you,  that  is  all.  Come  out  of  this  dark  place 
and  let  me  see  you !  Come,  give  your  big  brother 
your  hand  going  out  of  church — if  you  won't  take 
that  hand  another  way  and  walk  in  with  him." 

He  laughed,  not  gayly;  bravely  searched  for  the 
basket,  the  cord  and  scissors,  then  they  went  out 
together.  He  smiled  very  tenderly  when  at  the 


158  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

parsonage  door  and  said,  "Don't  ever  wholly  forget, 
but  never  remember  to  be  troubled  over  what  I  have 
told  you.  Goodnight!" 

Agnes  stood  in  the  starlight  and  wondered,  griev- 
ing, yet  in  a  certain  way  uplifted.  She  was  not, 
then,  mistaken  in  her  maiden  fancies  of  how  men 
loved,  it  was  of  a  truth  in  this  grandly  simple,  un- 
selfish fashion.  She  had  not  been  romantic,  and 
impractical  in  her  secret  theories. 

"Daughter,  come  in  here,"  called  her  father  from 
the  study.  She  obeyed  at  once,  and  found  him  pa- 
cing the  study.  He  stopped  before  her,  saying,  "  Mr. 
Rushmore  called;  I  told  him  you  were  not  at  home." 

"  I  have  been  in  the  church  with  the  flowers  for 
to-morrow." 

"  Did  you  see  him  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

He  stood  close  by  her  a  while,  as  he  said,  "  You 
look  like  your  mother,  my  child.  She  was  the  best 
woman  and  the  most  discreet.  I  hope  you  may  be 
like  her,  but—" 

"  I  am  not  ?  " 

He  began  to  walk.  "  You  are  reserved  by  nature, 
she  was  that.  She  took  counsel  with  her  conscience, 
and  seldom  told  what  she  meant  to  do,  or  gave  rea- 
sons for  her  conduct;  but  she  was  one  of  a  large 
family,  and  heard  all  subjects  often  discussed.  You 


THE    REV.    JSELA    SPEAKS.  159 

are  by  yourself,  young  and  very  ignorant  of  the 
world." 

"  I  have  you,  father." 

"  What  are  you  doing  in  these  days,  my  daughter  ? " 

"What  I  have  always  done,"  she  answered,  weigh- 
ing her  words  and  adding,  "  I  get  to  thinking  in  some 
new  ways,  perhaps." 

"  When  you  were  a  little  girl,  you  used  to  come 
and  sit  on  my  Greek  dictionary,  and  '  think  your 
thoughts  aloud '  for  me,  as  you  called  it.  Would 
you  be  afraid  to  do  so  now  ? " 

A  shade  clouded  his  face  as  color  crept  into  hers. 

"  I  would  not  like,  father,  to  have  to  hear  the 
sound  of  my  words  telling  my  thoughts  to  you;  but 
if  my  mother,  who  is  now  even  better  than  you,  can 
read  them,  I  am  glad." 

"  Still  you  are  afraid  of  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  because  you  could  not  see  more  than  I 
could  make  you;  but  I  am  not  at  all  afraid  of  God: 
when  I  sat  there  on  'the  dictionary,  I  was." 

"  Don't  be  irreverent,  my  child  !  Perhaps  you 
foolishly  imagine  how  things  would  seem  to  Him 
because  they  appear  so  to  you,  not  reflecting  that 
the  human  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things,  and 
desperately  wicked.  Are  you  fearful  that  I  should 
not  judge  of  things,  and  of  persons  as  you  do  ?  " 

After  a  moment,  Agnes  said,  "  Yes." 


160  EUNICE    LATHKOP,    SPINSTER. 

"  Your  mother  was  never  deceived  in  people  un- 
less she  loved  them.  She  loved  them  for  what  she 
wanted  them  to  be  often,  not  for  what  they  were. 
I  believe,"  he  added  with  a  quaint  smile,  "  she 
thought  I  was  equal  to  Jonathan  Edwards  when 
she  married  me." 

"  Didn't  she  think  so  always  ? " 

"Well,  I  hope  she  did;  but  she  did  not  live  long, 
poor  girl ! " 

He  began  to  pace  the  room  again,  conscious  he 
was  not  getting  on  with  Agnes.  The  perspiration 
glistened  in  the  furrows  of  his  face.  Men  whose 
work  it  is  to  read  and  write  of  souls  are  sometimes 
the  most  shy  of  feeling  about  in  the  inmost  recesses 
of  an  individual  one. 

"Agnes?" 

"Well,  father!" 

"  Has  this  Julian  Rushmore  ever  talked  to  you  of 
— has  he  ever  said  he  loved  you  ? " 

The  voice  was  very  low,  but  he  heard  her  reply, 
"  No,  sir,  he  never  has." 

"  Has  he  not  given  you  some  reason  to  think  that 
he  does  love  you  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Do  you  think  that  he  does  ? " 

There  was  not  a  sound  but  that  made  by  the 
crickets  outside  in  the  grass. 


THE    REV.    BE  LA    SPEAKS.  l6l 

The  spirit-mother  might  see,  the  human  father 
perhaps  would  be  pitiful;  but  Agnes  could  not  speak 
to  answer  that. 

"  I  have  made  a  grave  mistake,"  said  the  minister, 
with  sudden  energy.  "  I  see  it !  That  man  is  of  the 
sort  that  lead  silly  women  captive,  when  they  have 
crept  into  houses.  An  impressible  young  person  can 
easily  be  caught  by  vain  babblings  of  art,  and  pro- 
fane literature.  You  admire  his  talent  and  wit;  per- 
haps you  imagine  he  has  a  form  of  godliness,  but  I 
make  no  doubt  he  denies  the  power  thereof,  and  I 
adjure  you,  my  child,  in  the  very  words  of  Scripture 
— '  From  such  turn  away ' !  " 

Mr.  Hathaway  was  breathless.  Agnes  very  pale, 
but  seemingly  calm,  exclaimed:  "Why,  father,  you 
really  don't  know  Mr.  Rushmore  at  all !  " 

"  Be  still,  Agnes.  I  know  all  about  him.  St.  Paul 
knew  him  years  ago,  and  declared  he  was  carnally 
minded,  thoroughly  so.  I  know  he  is  devoted  to 
pursuits  and  pleasures  entirely  foreign  to  your  man- 
ner of  life." 

"  How  can  you  know  that,  father  !  He  seems  to 
me  in  sympathy  with  every  thing  good  and  noble." 

"  That  shows  you  are  infatuated,"  broke  out  her  fa- 
ther, wrathfully.  "Oh,  if  I  had  ruled  well  my  house, 
I  would  have  had  a  child  in  subjection  to  me  ! " 

"  Have  I  ever  disobeyed  you,  father  ?  "    Her  voice 


1 62  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

was  so  clear,  so  free  from  passion,  he  turned  to  her 
more  quietly. 

"  I  fear  for  you,  Agnes  !     I  fear  for  you  !  " 

"  You  need  not — if  I — I  never  could  love  (if  you 
mean  that)  any  such  man  as  you  have  pictured  to 
yourself — a  weak  or  coarse  or  frivolous  man.  I  should 
find  him  out  and  pity  him,  that  would  be  all." 

"  Nonsense  !  Every  woman  says  that.  She  gets 
wisdom  when  it  has  cost  her  everything,  and  can't 
be  used." 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do  ? " 

"  To  be  sober  minded,  and  not  give  way  to  vain 
imaginations,"  he  replied  sternly.  "  See  to  it  in 
time,  Agnes  !  See  to  it !  " 

She  bowed,  staid  a  while,  then  bidding  him  good 
night,  went  out  of  the  study.  She  was  agitated,  but 
not  dismayed.  She  had  not  deceived  her  father — 
nor  lost  one  atom  of  her  faith  in  Rushmore.  The 
minister  was  rigid  but  just.  He  never  refused  to 
recognize  good  that  made  itself  manifest,  or  moral 
worth  in. any  one.  Notwithstanding  the  sounding 
words  of  his  condemnation  were  echoing  in  her  ears, 
she  almost  smiled  out  into  the  darkness  that  cur- 
tained the  tomb-stones,  as  she  whispered  to  herself, 
a  Kempis's  saying  of  love  that  "as  a  lively  flame 
and  a  burning  torch  it  forces  its  way  upwards  and 
securely  passes  through  all." 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

A  Little  "Aside" 

"D  USHMORE  was  busy  at   his   office  desk  one 

re 

*- v  afternoon,  when  there  came  a  tap  on  his  door. 
He  called  "  come  in,"  without  at  once  looking  up — 
not  doing  so  until  a  light  footstep  approached,  and 
Mrs.  Melton  in  a  flutter  of  apologies  for  interrupting 
him,  said  she  had  ventured  to  call  for  certain  papers 
she  was  to  copy. 

"  I  was  going  to  send  the  boy  with  all  the  rest  of 
them  to-night,  when  I  left  the  office,"  he  explained; 
adding,  "You  need  never  take  the  trouble  to  come 
for  or  to  bring  them,  we  have  plenty  of  messengers." 

"  Thanks,  but  if  it  is  quite  proper  to  come  myself, 
sometimes,  I  like  the  exercise.  When  I  have  an  er- 
rand I  run  out  for  a  walk,  if  not,  I  stay  too  closely 
over  my  embroidery." 

Rushmore  brought  out  the  papers,  and  gave  her 
instructions  as  to  what  he  wished  done  with  them. 
She  was  enthusiastic  over  the  dry  details  of  the  work. 


1 64  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

Sometimes  she  gave  hints*  of  very  exuberant  spirits 
kept  in  by  a  charming  sense  of  decorum.  When  the 
explanations  were  ended,  he  asked:  "Were  the  sug- 
gestions I  gave  you  of  use  in  sending  for  the  little 
boy  ? " 

She  hesitated,  embarrassed.  "  I  have  no  doubt 
he  would  come  that  way  in  perfect  safety — but  I 
have  not  sent  for  him  yet." 

"  No  ?     Miss  Leigh  had  a  better  plan  perhaps." 

She  rolled  her  mantle  fringe  around  her  little  fin- 
ger, murmuring:  "  I  have  told  you  so  much  I  might 
as  well  tell — " 

"No,"  he  protested  quickly.  "Beyond  a  wish 
to  be  of  use  in  the  matter  I  have  not  the  least 
curiosity." 

For  some  time,  Rushmore  had  found  the  young 
widow  almost  indiscreet  in  her  innocent  confidences 
— occasionally  he  had  dimly  fancied  the  indiscretion 
was,  after  a  sort,  premeditated^ — but  then  it  was  easy 
for  him  to  be  lazily  good-natured  toward  an  inter- 
esting woman. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  anything  mysterious.  It  is 
only  the  pride "  (she  looked  up  archly)  "  and  the 
poverty  "  (she  looked  down,  dimples  vanishing,  mouth 
quite  mournful). 

"O  keep  up  your  courage,  Mrs.  Melton!  The 
pride  is  an  heirloom,  you  can  hand  it  down  to  your 


A    LITTLE    "ASIDE."  165 

child's  children,  the  other  possession  you  will  dispose 
of  in  due  time." 

"  Perhaps — I  was  going  to  ask  Miss  Leigh  to  ad- 
vance me  a  sum  on  work  she  has  engaged  me  to  do, 
and  forward  that  to  London  for  little  Guy's  expenses, 
but  now  I  can't  ask  her  to  do  that,  and  what  I  have 
must  go  to  the  preparation  of  a  home,  if  I  ever  ex- 
pect to  get  one  ready  here  for  him." 

"  Have  you  not  consulted  Miss  Leigh  at  all  yet?" 

"  I  went  into  her  room  one  night  to  do  so,  but  I 
could  not,  for  it  seemed  so  like  begging.  O  I  can't 
make  anybody  understand  how  sensitive  I  am  ! " 
and  she  leaned  her  head  on  his  desk,  silently  sob- 
bing. Her  parasol  tumbled  one  way,  a  lean  porte- 
monnaie  rolled  under  Rushmore's  chair.  His  mind 
was  divided  between  two  desires;  one  to  suggest  the 
duty  of  self-control,  the  other  and  more  humane  one, 
to  comfort  her. 

"  There  is  not  the  least  reason,  Mrs.  Melton,  why, 
with  your  present  prospects  of  remunerative  work, 
you  should  not  borrow  at  once  all  the  money  you 
actually  need." 

He  picked  up  her  porte-monnaie,  turned  to  his 
desk,  wrote  something  on  a  paper,  and  while  she, 
wiping  her  eyes,  looked  at  him  wonderingly,  he 
turned  back  to  her  saying,  "Sign  this  note;  and 
when  it  comes  due,  if  you  are  not  riding  on  the 


166  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

top  wave  of  prosperity,  have  it  renewed  until  you 
are." 

She  read  it,  and  when  she  looked  up  Rushmore 
was  putting  a  roll  of  bills  into  the  lean  and  empty 
purse.  He  had  lent  her  one  hundred  dollars.  To 
her  sudden  exclamations  he  said,  "  It  is  business,  of 
course;  but  I  would  like  you  to  tell  Miss  Leigh  now 
the  whole  matter." 

She  modulated  her  tones  at  once  to  calmness,  and 
thanked  him  for  the  accommodation.  Yes,  now  she 
could  tell  the  ladies,  and  gladly  avail  herself  of 
their  help  in  all  her  future  movements.  To  be  a 
brisiness  woman,  and  not  an  object  of  charity,  was 
what  made  her  ecstatically  happy,  or  so  she  de- 
clared in  a  pretty  rapture  and  excitement;  after 
which  she  asked  a  few  more  questions  in  regard  to 
the  legal  papers  and  made  ready  to  go  home.  Rush- 
more  did  not  introduce  any  new  topic  of  conversa- 
tion, bade  her  good-afternoon  in  a  sudden  fit  of  ab- 
sent-mindedness, and  after  she  had  gone  wondered 
,  if  he  had  done  a  wise  thing,  or  rather  if  he  had  not 
done  a  kind  thing  in  an  unwise  way. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Moonlight  on  Land. 

MISS  ANNIE  LEIGH  appeared  at  the  table  one 
morning  and  exclaimed,  "I  have  thought  of 
something  nice;  now  don't,  dear  Miss  Eunice,  say 
that  it  is  not  proper." 

"  Your  ideas  always  are  proper." 

"  Thanks.  Now  of  course  we  could  not  give  a 
party;  but  could  not  we  have  a  few  family  friends 
to  tea  with  us  ? " 

"  Who  are  your  family  friends,  my  dear  girl  ?  You 
are  your  family,  as  the  man  said  of  his  ancestors." 

"  We  could  have  Miss  Hathaway,  and  of  course 
her  father,  he  seems  pleasant  in  a  solemn  way.  We 
each  know  Mr.  John  Irving;  you  know  his  moth- 
er, and  I  want  to  know  his  father,  particularly  as 
you  find  him  so  amusing.  That  makes  five  ladies. 
Then  we  might  invite  Mr.  Rushmore  and  his  father, 
to  make  the  balance  even." 

"  I  am  sure  it  would   be  perfectly  proper,"  ac- 


l68  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

quiesced  Miss  Eunice  promptly.  Now  she  would 
get  into  that  kitchen  and  circumvent  that  house- 
keeper by  making  such  cake  and  biscuit  as  the  old 
creature  never  by  luck  or  skill  had  been  able  to 
produce. 

"  We  might  invite  them  for  to-morrow  afternoon. 
I  will  go  to  Miss  Hathaway's,  and  you  ask  the  Irv- 
ings  some  time  to-day." 

"Yes,"  replied  Eunice;  "and  we  can  -tell  Mr. 
Rushmore  when  he  calls,  if  he  does  call  in  time.  I 
will  make  him  know  it  is  a  visit  of  the  old-fashioned 
sort,  or  his  father  will  not  come." 

She  could  scarcely  finish  her  breakfast,  the  idea 
of  the  mild  festivity  so  excited  her. 

About  eleven  o'clock  Mrs.  Melton  said  to  Miss 
Lathrop,  "  Are  you  very  busy  this  morning  ?  " 

"Not  just  now;  soon  I  am  going  down  to  the 
Irvings'." 

"  I  wonder  if  you  would  go  a  little  out  of  your 
way  to  please  me." 

"  Certainly  I  would,"  said  Miss  Eunice,  who  was 
getting  to  dislike  her  so  heartily  she  was  glad  to 
atone  for  it,  by  any  amount  of  kindly  service,  there- 
by appeasing  her  New  England  conscience. 

"  I  have  heard  of  apartments  in  a  house  on  Buck- 
ingham Street.  I  want  to  see  them,  but  I  do  not 
know  the  way  there;  besides,  if  you  are  with  me, 


MOONLIGHT   ON  LAND.  169 

you  can  tell  me  if  rent,  conveniences,  and  all  things 
are  as  they  should  be." 

"I  will  go  now — but,  dearie  me!  how  did  you 
start  off  on  the  enterprise  so  quietly.  Does  Miss 
Leigh  know  ? " 

"I'll  run  and  put  my  bonnet  on  this  moment," 
said  the  widow,  vanishing. 

When  they  were  going  down  into  the  middle- 
town  together  Mrs.  Melton,  with  a  little  gush  of 
almost  girlish  admiration,  exclaimed,  "Mr.  Rush- 
more  is  such  a  gentleman  !  All  the  Americans  seem 
to  be  polite,  but  he  is  so  delicate  and  thoughtful. 
He  searched  the  papers  and  made  all  sorts  of  in- 
quiries for  rooms;  then  he  told  me  of  these,  yester- 
day. Probably  because  I  chanced  to  say  I  must 
look  myself  one  day." 

"  He  need  not  have  taken  all  that  trouble — and 
you,  very  likely,  could  have  saved  your  rent,"  re- 
turned Miss  Eunice  bluntly.  "  Miss  Leigh  has  houses 
to  let  in  apartments.  She  would  not  speak  to  you 
of  them,  she  told  me,  lest  you  fancy  she  was  hint- 
ing to  you  that  your  stay  with  her  had  better  end; 
but  when  you  were  ready  she  meant  to  offer  them. 
I  am  very  certain  of  this." 

"  The  sweet  girl !  But  whenever  I  can  keep  from 
taxing  her  kindness  I  will  do  so.  She  has  found  me 
work  and  orders  enough  to  justify  me  in  venturing 


1 70  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

to  start  out  for  myself.  Then,  as  I  said,  Mr.  Rush- 
more  thinks  of  everything.  He  will  give  me  copy- 
ing when  he  has  it." 

"Yes,  he  seems  to  make  all  Miss  Leigh's  interests 
his  own,"  said  the  wise  virgin,  "but  in  this  case  I 
think  he  will  wish  he  had  not  been  in  such  haste  to 
serve  her,  or  you,  rather,  for  her  sake." 

"  I  myself  should  not  be  in  haste  to  leave  Miss 
Leigh,"  returned  the  wiser  widow,  letting  tJiat  "dig  " 
go  unnoticed — "but  I  put  her  in  straits  continually. 
She  can't  explain  to  her  exclusive  callers  and  future 
friends,  that  I  am  not  socially  her  equal.  You  must 
know  what  it  is  to  feel  that  yourself" 

For  full  five  minutes,  Miss  Eunice  was  torn  by 
distracting  thoughts.  Did  Mrs.  Melton  merely 
mean  that  Miss  Eunice  knew  by  sympathy  with 
Miss  Leigh,  how,  etc.?  Could  she  dare  to  mean 
that,  not  being  on  an  equality  with  Miss  Leigh,  she 
could  sympathize  with  Mrs.  Melton  ? 

"  Don't  walk  so  fast,"  said  the  happy  little  widow. 
"  You  look  quite  hot — this  is  Buckingham  Street.  I 
see  the  name  on  the  lamp." 

It  was  a  quiet,  narrow  street,  made  dark  by  many 
trees.  The  houses  were  old,  but  very  respectable 
in  appearance,  standing  far  back,  for  the  most  part, 
in  yards  where  the  tall  dank  grass  was  unshaven. 

Miss  Lathrop  deciding  not  to  be  belligerent  mere- 


MOONLIGHT   ON  LAND.  171 

ly  on  an  uncertainty,  remarked:  "They  look  gloomy 
on  the  outside;  but  I  presume  the  rooms  may  be 
fine  large  ones,  and  very  likely  the  rent  will  be  lower 
than  in  a  newer  part  of  the  town." 

They  found  the  particular  house  they  sought  for, 
and  a  loud  rapping  with  the  huge  brass  knocker  sum- 
moned a  thin;  long-nosed  woman,  who  cautiously 
opened  the  door,  just  far  enough  to  insert  her  wedge 
of  a  face  in  the  aperture,  while  she  learned  their  de- 
sires and  mused  suspiciously  awhile.  After  this  in- 
decision she  led  them  through  a  hall  and  upstairs. 
The  rooms  were  unobjectionable  in  every  respect, 
and  the  price  extremely  reasonable.  Mrs.  Melton 
was  perfectly  satisfied.  She  agreed  to  move  into  the 
rooms  the  following  week,  and  she  even  hired  at 
once  of  the  woman  some  articles  of  furniture  already 
in  them.  Miss  Lathrop  was  surprised  at  her  rapid 
performances  and  prompt  conclusions,  and  her  re- 
spect for  her  business  capacity  was  much  increased. 

The  woman,  whose  deep-set  eyes  had,  in  a  sort  of 
visual  hunger,  taken  in  every  detail  of  the  visitor's 
dress,  manner  and  features,  then  slowly  followed 
them  down-stairs,  bade  them  in  a  sepulchral  tone, 
good  day,  inserted  her  nose  again  in  the  door  crack 
and  watche-d  them  out  of  sight. 

"  What  a  dismal  creature,"  said  Miss  Eunice  when 
they  shut  the  rusty  iron  gate.  "  I  could  never  be 


172  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

comfortable  under  her  roof.  She  seemed  to  me  to 
be  trying  to  find  out  all  my  past  history  by  reading 
it  off  my  clothing  in  some  mysterious  way." 

"  I  rather  like  that  kind  of  a  woman,  myself,  it 
will  be  sport  to  baffle  her  curiosity." 

"  Humph,"  muttered  Miss  Eunice,  glancing  as- 
kance at  her  companion,  who  had  taken  to  knock- 
ing off  dandelion  tops  with  her  parasol. 

"  This  Miss  Hathaway  whom  Miss  Leigh  spoke 
of  inviting  to  tea,  is  Mr.  Rushmore's  betrothed,  is 
she  not,  Miss  Lathrop  ? " 

"  Good  gracious  no  !  What  put  that  into  your 
head  ? " 

"  Let  me  think.  Oh  something  he  said  on  the 
steamer,  I  believe,  but  not  to  me.  He  was  chat- 
ting with  Miss  Leigh." 

"Oh  no,  he  is  a  friend,  I  think;  but  anybody  can 
see — "  Miss  Lathrop  prudently  bit  off  the  sentence 
she  had  begun  rather  hastily. 

"  Yes,  anybody  can  see  that  he  is  very  susceptible 
— that  is,  I  mean  I — now  what  am  I  saying ! " 

"  Say  it  out,  do  !  "  urged  the  spinster. 

"  Then  don't  you  ever  repeat  it,  for  the  world,  it 
sounds  so  silly;  but  he  is  actually  so  polite  even  to 
me  sometimes,  I  fear  a  little  for  the  speech  of  people, 
or  should,  if  there  were  any  to  speak  of  me.  It  all 
amounts  of  course  to  nothing." 


MOONLIGHT   ON  LAND.  173 

"  I  should  say  it  did." 

"  Still,  one  in  my  position  must  be  very  discreet 
and  even  prudish." 

"Yes,  you  certainly  cannot  be  too  much  so;  I 
do  remember  now  that  when  he  comes  to  see  Miss 
Leigh  and — you — present  yourself  to  entertain  him 
before  she  comes  in,  he  is  always  very  affable,  but 
that  is  his  way,  the  way  of  all  American  gentlemen 
to  women." 

"  Oh  is  it  ? "  cried  the  widow  eagerly,  "  then  it  is 
not  any  matter  and  I  am  so  relieved;  there  isn't  any 
use  in  being  unsympathetic  always,  but  I  was  a  lit- 
tle startled  at  his  taking  up  my  affairs  so  so- 
licitously." 

She  strolled  on  her  way  beheading  more  dande- 
lions, Miss  Lathrop  pacing  along  just  behind,  re- 
flected on  the  duty  of  patience  with  fools.  She  was 
herself  almost  fooled  into  thinking  that  Mrs.  Melton 
was  one  of  this  class. 

Mr.  Rushmore  did  not  call  at  the  house  during 
the  day.  Miss  Eunice  was  remarking  to  Miss  An- 
nie as  they  sat  together  on  the  piazza,  that  they 
must  send  the  invitation  early  in  the  morning,  when 
a  carriage  stopped  at  the  gate,  and  soon  Rushmore 
himself  appeared.  He  had  come  to  see  if  Miss  Leigh 
would  not  like  to  visit  the  Flying  Waterfall  in  Wal- 
denton  Glen  this  beautiful  moonlight  evening.  An- 


174  EUNICE   LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

nie  was  delighted  at  the  idea,  she  ran  away  and 
came  back  all  in  soft  white  wrapping,  as  if  she  had 
robbed  the  moon  of  the  long  clouds  about  it,  or  so 
Rushmore  was  sentimental  enough  to  declare. 

Miss  Eunice  heartily  approved  of  anything  ro- 
mantic on  nights  like  this  and  sat  smiling  to  her- 
self long  after  the  two  young  people  had  departed. 
She  was  also  happy  because  she  had  been  good,  and 
a  peacemaker,  inasmuch  as  she  had  refrained  from 
any  comments  on  Mrs.  Melton's  peculiarities,  and 
had  spent  the  afternoon  interesting  Annie  in  all 
Mrs.  Melton's  housekeeping  arrangements.  They 
had  planned  to  save  her  almost  all  expense  of  fur- 
nishing her  rooms.  The  Leigh  house  was  crowded 
with  nice  old  furniture,  and  much  could  be  given 
away  to  advantage.  So  in  peaceful,  philanthropic 
meditation  the  lady  sat  alone  in  the  moonlight,  un- 
til she  was  aroused  by  the  returning  wheels  of  Rush- 
more's  carriage,  and  the  sound  of  his  voice  at  the 
gate.  With  a  sudden  impulse,  she  arose  quickly, 
stepped  inside  the  long  window  and  awaited  Annie 
in  the  parlor,  not  once  thinking  she  might  become 
an  eavesdropper.  She  heard  Annie  give  the  invita- 
tion for  the  little  tea-party,  which  she  seemed  to 
have  forgotten  before  that  moment,  then  there  was 
a  murmured  bit  of  conversation — and  somebody  was 
kissed ! 


MOONLIGHT   ON  LAND.  175 

"  Goodness  gracious  me  ! "  was  the  characteristic 
ejaculation  smothered  by  the  sofa  cushion,  then 
controlling  her  emotions  Miss  Lathrop  removed 
herself  to  another  sofa  much,  farther  from  the  open 
windows,  and  hypocritically  planned  to  rise  drow- 
sily therefrom  when  Annie  should  come  in,  which 
thing  she  did,  asking  at  the  same  time,  if  it  "rained.*1 
She  might  safely  have  said  that  it  snowed,  for  all 
heed  the  young  lady  could  give  to  speeches  of  that 
sort. 

"  The  falls  are  very  beautiful,  are  they  not  ?  Did 
you  have  a  pleasant  drive  ? " 

"Oh,  the  glen  was  exquisite;  it  seemed  like  a  place 
in  a  new  world." 

"  Yet  you  have  lived  in  Switzerland." 

"  Yes;  but  this  was  different  in  some  way." 

She  walked  about  the  room,  started  to  light  the 
gas,  threw  the  match  away,  came  and  nestled  close 
to  Miss  Lathrop,  asking  half  apologetically,  "  Were 
you  ever  engaged  ? " 

"Yes,  three  times,"  returned  Miss  Eunice  briskly; 
"all  came  to  nothing  though.  The  first  time  I  got 
turned  against  the  man  in  some  way,  and  the  next 
one  got  tired  of  me;  he  had  the  grace  not  to  tell 
me  so,  but  I  knew  it  all  the  same,  and  sent  him  fly- 
ing. The  third  time,  the  relations  could  not  let  us 
alone  (his  relations,  I  mean),  and  I  was  not  going 


176  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

to  be  one  of  them  even  for  him.  Since  then,"  she 
added,  as  a  gratuitous  item,  "  I  would  not  have  any 
one  who  would  have  me,  and  any  one  I  might  have 
liked  would  not  look  at  me;  but  I  never  lost  a  night's 
sleep  on  that  account,  no  not  one !  Now  what 
makes  you  ask,  dear  ?  " 

"  Because  I  am  engaged  to  Mr.  Rushmore.  It — 
it  happened  to-night." 

"  Of  course,  in  the  moonlight.  When  I  write  on 
astronomy,  I  am  going  to  tell  how  that  moon  acts 
on  more  tides  than  watery  ones.  Well,  I  thought 
this  would  come  sooner  or  later;  are  you  very  happy  ? " 

"Yes;  as  happy  as  I  have  always  said  I  must  be 
sometime  to  be  satisfied.  I  never  was  willing  to  be 
just  contented  as  some  people  are,"  exclaimed  An- 
nie vehemently. 

"  Life  is  a  discipline,"  put  in  the  spinster  oracularly. 
"  If  you  had  been  brought  up  in  Massachusetts  you'd 
have  heard  that  too  often  to  expect  your  happiness 
measured  off  to  suit  you.  But  bless  me,  young  folks 
do  feel  that  way,  if  'tis  presumptuous." 

"Yes,"  went  on  Annie,  "I — thought — it  might 
come,  but  not  so  soon  perhaps.  He  is  going  to  tell 
his  father  of  it  all  when  he  gives  him  the  invitation 
here  to-morrow.  I  have  no  mother  to  tell,  so  I  must 
tell  you." 

Miss  Lathrop  patted  the  head  on  her  arm  and 


MOONLIGHT    ON  LAND.  177 

said,  "  The  old  gentleman  will  be  very  happy  to 
have  a  daughter,  I  know  he  will  be.  He  is  a  fine 
old  man,  quiet,  but  liked  and  respected  by  every- 
body. Mrs.  Rushmore  died  years  ago,  she  was  a 
Van  Benthusen." 

"  Yes,"  said  Annie  softly,  a  little  fearful  of  a  gen- 
ealogical turn  being  given  to  the  affair.  "  I  am 
going  to  ask  all  about  the  family  for  years  back  some 
day.  Now  good  night." 

She  ran  away  through  the  long  hall  to  her  own 
room,  where  she  could  recall  far  more  than  she  cared 
to  tell  Miss  Eunice  about  the  full  moon  and — and — 


CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Tea-party. 

ABOUT  six  o'clock  the  next  afternoon  Miss 
Leigh's  guests  met  in  the  cool,  flower-per- 
fumed parlor.  She  was  inexperienced  as  a  hostess; 
but  her  tact  and  goodnature  taught  her  how  to  en- 
tertain her  friends  in  the  happiest  and  most  sensible 
way.  She  had  laid  aside  black  for  the  time  and  was 
fresh  and  charming  in  pure  white.  The  Irvings  came 
first.  Miss  Lathrop  devoted  herself  to  them,  when 
Annie  was  called  out  of  the  parlor  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. She  soon  returned  leading  the  Rushmores 
• — her  cheeks  in  the  mean  time  had  grown  very  rosy. 
Last  of  all  came  the  minister  and  his  daughter.  Mr. 
Hathaway  had  on  the  ministerial  coat  and  the  air 
that  went  with  it.  He  retained  the  first  in  all  its 
blackness,  but  quite  lost  the  sombre  second  when 
he  found  himself  greeted  with  great  cordiality.  Ag- 
nes was  really  beautiful  in  her  pale  gray  dress  with 
a  pink  rose  in  the  lace  at  her  throat  and  another  in 


THE    TEA-PARTY.  179 

her  hair.  The  Rev.  Bela's  fatherly  pride  was  sensi- 
bly touched  by  the  affection  Miss  Leigh  seemed  to 
have  conceived  for  her,  and  his  pleasure  was  evident 
when  she  begged  him  to  make  Agnes  feel  it  a  duty 
to  visit  her  often. 

"  Agnes  is  a  keeper  at  home,  but  she  gives  me  to 
understand  she  enjoys  your  acquaintance  extreme- 
ly," he  replied  with  a  courtly  bow;  then  becoming 
aware  that  he  was  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  he 
looked  about  for  a  chair,  and  old  Peleg  called  him 
to  their  little  group.  Mr.  Rushmore  had  found  his 
way  to  Agnes. 

"Has  the  grass  grown  over  my  old  path  to  the 
parsonage,  or  have  you  missed  me  so  little  you  have 
not  looked  to  see  ?" 

"  I  noticed  that  you  did  not  come  as  often  as  you 
used  to  come.  But  I  know  you  must  have  good 
reasons  for  your  absence." 

"  Yes,  you  are  always  philosophical.  I  fancied  that 
a  few  less  of  our  aimless  confabs  would  not  signify. 
And  so  Miss  Leigh  was  mischievous  enough  to  seek 
you  out  alone,  and  triumph  over  me  ?  I  was  keep- 
ing her  as  a  surprise  for  you.  I  have  never  surprised 
you;  our  friendship  has  been  a  very  monotonous 
affair." 

Agnes  glanced  across  at  Annie,  and  with  eyes  full 
of  a  rare  pleasure  replied, 


l8o  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

"She  was  a  surprise  and  a  lovely  one." 

"  I  have  another  for  you — if  she  does  not  tell 
you  of  that  too — she  may  do  so,"  and  he  laughed 
gleefully. 

Agnes  looked  up  quickly,  thinking  that  Rushmore 
was  more  animated  than  formerly.  Through  a  near 
door  Mrs.  Melton  entered  just  then  noiselessly,  and 
Rushmore  made  a  place  for  her  near  Miss  Hatha- 
way, whom  she  studied  as  they  talked.  When  her 
eyes  had  taken  in  every  fold  of  Agnes's  dress — ev- 
erything from  the  ringless  little  hands  to  the  pink 
tint  the  rose  cast  on  her  dark  cheeks,  she  was  at  a 
loss  to  understand  why  Rushmore  had  not  met  his 
fate  long  before  Miss  Leigh  arrived  in  Waldenton. 
Agnes  was  not  at  all  attracted  by  the  widow,  and 
was  glad  to  have  old  Peleg  Irving  come  and  inter- 
rupt their  conversation.  Of  course  he  asked  Mrs. 
Melton  if  she  liked  the  town  and  if  she  had  become 
acquainted  with  many  of  the  people.  She  replied  to 
the  first  question  that  no  place  "could  be  more 
picturesquely  situated,"  adding,  "  Miss  Leigh  has 
kindly  introduced  me  to  a  great  many  persons  be- 
cause they  may  be  a  help  to  me  when  I  venture  out 
alone,  as  I  propose  to  do  soon." 

"  Indeed — going  to  start  a  school  ?  " 

"  No;  to  sew  and  do  various  other  things  that 
women  do  nowadays  to  earn  a  support.  Mr.  Rush- 


THE    TEA-PARTY.  iSl 

more  has  found  me  some  rooms;  he  has  been  very 
kind  to  me,  just  like  a  brother,  as  I  told  Miss  La- 
throp  this  morning." 

"  He  is  a  very  friendly  fellow,  Rushmore  is — and 
a  great  friend  of  Miss  Lathrop  and  Miss  Leigh,"  re- 
turned Peleg. 

"  Yes,  and  then  the  fact  is,  we  knew  one  an- 
other some  time  before  we  knew  Miss  Leigh;  he 
boarded  at  my  aunt's  in  London,"  she  explained 
artlessly. 

Peleg  solemnly  gave  himself  up  after  that  to  rind- 
ing out,  as  he  afterwards  declared  to  his  spouse, 
"What  the  creature  was  after;"  he  had  not  ascer- 
tained when  they  were  all  invited  to  the  tea-room. 
Miss  Lathrop  had  spared  no  labor  in  making  every 
thing  there  inviting  after  a  lavish  old-fashioned  style. 
The  long  table  glittered  with  crystal  and  silver,  the 
dainty  viands  were  interspersed  with  brilliant  flow- 
ers, and  conversation  grew  lively  as  the  guests  lost 
their  first  formality.  After  tea  everybody  sought  the 
open  air  for  the  twilight  was  very  lovely.  Some 
sauntered  on  the  lawn,  some  to  the  flower  garden, 
two  or  three  sat  in  the  piazza.. 

Annie  caught  Agnes  by  the  hand  and  drew  her  to 
the  garden,  saying,  "I  must  have  you  long  enough 
to  see  if  you  are  real  flesh  and  blood,  then  I  will  go 
entertain  the  '  grave  and  reverend  seigniors '  again. 


1 82  EUNICE    LATHKOP,    SPINSTER. 

How  like  a  dream  of  a  girl  you  look  in  that  filmy 
gray  dress  !  " 

"Well,"  returned  Agnes,  admiringly,  "there  is 
nothing  misty  at  all  about  you,  you  look  like  a  sud- 
den burst  of  sunshine  !  " 

"  I  feel  like  one  !     I — Agnes — " 

"  O  here  you  are,"  exclaimed  Rushmore  com- 
ing toward  them.  "  Annie,  my  father  is  looking  for 
you,  he  is  almost  as  happy  as  I  am,"  he  added, 
blushing.  "She  has  told  you,  Agnes — I  saw  her  run 
away  to  do  it,"  he  whispered  laughingly. 

Agnes  was  surprised  beyond  measure  at  Rush- 
more's  manner,  at  his  addressing  Miss  Leigh  as 
"  Annie,"  and  herself  as  "  Agnes."  He  was  even 
now  holding  out  his  hand,  with  a  shy,  pleased, 
almost  pleading  look,  that  was  more  inexplicable. 
It  was  as  if  he  begged  her  to  rejoice  with  him,  and 
yet  was  half  doubtful  if  she  would  do  so.  A  tremor 
took  her,  a  faint  sensation  of  being  unequal  to  some- 
thing never  felt  before;  but  in  the  instant  of  waiting 
after  that — she  called  in  to  a  self,  that  seemed  ex- 
caping  her,  to  stop,  to  be  stronger. 

Gayly  shaking  his  forefinger  at  them,  old  Mr. 
Rushmore  came  skipping  across  a  verbena  bed  into 
the  winding  path  again,  crying:  "  I've  found  you  out 
at  last;  you  think  this  is  a  romantic  time  for  running 
off  among  the  posies — well,  maybe  it  is,  but  you 


THE    TEA-PARTY.  183 

must  give  the  old  man  a  little  of  yourselves.  Let 
us  go  over  to  this  pretty  little  arbor.  It  is  new,  is  it 
not  ? " 

Annie  drew  Agnes  closer  to  her  as  they  entered 
the  shadowy  place. 

The  old  gentleman  was  in  the  gayest  of  moods 
and  chatted  as  politely  as  any  young  gallant;  but 
after  a  few  moments  of  rambling  conversation  he 
put  his  withered  hand  on  Annie's  soft  hair,  saying, 
in  a  voice  a  little  gruff  with  feeling:  "I  am  glad  ! 
very  glad  of  it,  my  child;  nothing  could  have  pleased 
me  better  !  When  my  boy  was  twenty-one  years 
old,  I  told  him  to  hurry  and  show  me  his  wife,  and 
the  ungrateful  wretch  has  made  me  wait  thirteen 
years.  Do  you  wonder  I  am  so  delighted  now,  my 
dear  girl  ? " 

He  leaned  briskly  forward,  and  while  Annie  was 
saying  low  and  inaudible  words,  he  kissed  her  as  his 
"  daughter." 

Agnes's  hand  had  slipped  out  of  Annie's,  she  had 
to  take  no  part  in  the  little  scene.  To  the  actors, 
she  was  a  shadow  of  the  soft  twilight.  She,  to  her- 
self,' seemed  not  there — not  anywhere — there  was 
only  space  and  emptiness  now — behind  her  a  worse 
unreality  as  she  thought  of  that  past.  Rushmore's 
voice  broke  in,  arousing  her.  He  was  saying  to 
her,  "  You  must  have  guessed  it  when  Annie  first 


184  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

went  to  you.  It  delights  me  that  you  like  her 
so  much,  and  you  will  get  infinitely  more  satisfac- 
tion out  of  her  friendship  than  ever  you  had  from 
mine." 

Annie  found  her  voice  and  began  to  talk.  It 
sounded  to  Agnes  afar  off  in  the  air,  as  did  the 
voice  of  the  old  gentleman,  when  he  gallantly  of- 
fered to  adopt  another  lovely  daughter  like  herself 
without  any  hesitation.  She  wondered  if  she  could 
put  intelligible  words  together.  They  heard  her 
say  simply  that  they  must  be  very  happy;  and  as 
they  were,  the  pleasant  speeches,  and  merry  laughter 
went  on  for  awhile  longer.  Then  the  younger  Rush- 
more  said:  "We  must  go  back!  It  is  selfish  to 
make  up  a  little  private  heaven  for  ourselves,  and 
leave  the  rest  of  Annie's  guests  to  the  care  of  Miss 
Lathrop,  although  she  is  an  excellent  hostess  in 
Annie's  absence." 

"  I  will  take  her  right  back,"  said  his  father,  walk- 
ing away  with  her  on  his  arm  and  leaving  the  son 
to  come  with  Agnes. 

"  I  have  wanted  to  talk  of  her  to  you  often,  Agnes, 
and  now  I  can  be  at  liberty  to  speak,  don't  you  'find 
her  unlike  other  girls  ?  " 

"  She  is  very  lovely." 

"I  was  sure  you  would  think  so.  It  was  not 
merely  her  face  that  conquered  me,  it  was  her  spir- 


THE    TEA- PA  RTY.  185 

ited  sweetness  of  character — not  just  amiability, 
that  is  tame — you  must  understand,  for  we  always 
have  understood  one  another." 

A  lover  discoursing  on  a  lady's  perfections  only 
expects  echoes;  for  what  can  another  tell  him  over 
and  above  that  he  already  knows;  so  Agnes  had 
only  to  listen. 

When  they  were  all  together  again  in  the  piazza, 
ices  were  brought  to  them. 

The  Rev.  Bela,  who  had  been  talking  with  Miss 
Lathrop,  took  his  in  a  very  preoccupied  way  and 
solemnly,  as  if  it  were  an  ordinance  of  some  kind; 
but  the  others  were  exceedingly  lively.  Agnes 
slipped  quietly  behind  the  wooden  pillar  against 
which  he  leaned  and  whispered.  "  Father,  if  you 
have  anything  to  take  you  home  early,  you  need 
not  stay  on  my  account.  I  would  like  to  go — I  am 
tired." 

"Yes,  daughter!" 

After  the  ice,  Rushmore  proposed  music  he  wanted 
his  father  to  hear  Annie  sing.  They  returned  to  the 
parlor,  now  brilliantly  lighted,  and  if  she  had  given 
them  no  other  pleasure  beyond  that  afforded  by  a 
beautiful  picture  they  would  have  been  satisfied. 
The  light  made  luminous  her  golden  hair  and  her 
floating  white  drapery.  When  she  sang,  it  was  joy- 
ous music  from  the  sweetest  of  voices;  old  Mr.  Rush- 


1 86  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPIKSTEK. 

more  was  enchanted,  and  Peleg  Irving  shared  his 
enthusiasm. 

"  I  may  be  prejudiced,"  whispered  Miss  Eunice  to 
Mr.  Hathaway  and  his  daughter,  "but  I  think  Mr. 
Rushmore  might  have  gone  quite  around  the  world 
and  not  found  her  equal  for  his  wife." 

The  minister  uttered  not  a  word,  but  Agnes  felt 
the  hand  resting  lightly  on  her  shoulder  twitch 
nervously. 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  she  said,  glancing  at  her 
father,  it  was  apprehension  not  surprise  in  his  face; 
he  must  have  heard  the  news  before,  as  she  had. 

Immediately  after  the  song,  Mr.  Hathaway  made 
known  that  he  had  a  sermon  to  finish  and  must  go 
home.  Annie  begged  Agnes  to  stay  longer,  John 
Irving,  coming  near,  was  about  to  say  he  would  take 
her  safely  to  the  parsonage  a  little  later,  when  he 
caught  a  look  on  her  face  that  silenced  him.  Evi- 
dently she  did  not  wish  to  stay  and  he  let  the  Rev. 
Bela  calmly  avow  his  desire  that  she  should  go  with 
him. 

"  He  is  a  grim  parent  at  his  best,"  whispered 
Rushmore  to  Annie,  who  looked  rather  abashed  and 
had  ceased  her  entreaties  at  once. 

The  polite  farewells  were  ended  and  the  Hatha- 
ways  went  down  the  avenue  which  stretched  out 
like  a  broad  path  of  silver,  in  the  moonlight.  Just 


THE     TEA-PA  RTY.  187 

at  the  great  gate  before  they  turned  to  go  down 
under  the  dark  tree  shadows  the  prim  little  man 
stopped  and  gazed  at  the  sky.  The  party,  within 
doors  might  have  heard  what  he  said  then  and  would 
have  considered  it  entirely  ministerial :  "  Agnes  ?  " 

"Yes,  father?" 

"Remember:  'He  telleth  the  number  of  the  stars. 
He  calleth  them  all  by  their  names ' — and  the  other 
words  that  go  with  these." 

The  child  of  the  Puritan  understood:  "He  heal- 
eth  the  broken  in  heart,  and  bindeth  up  their 
wounds;"  but  she  was  silent.  That  was  all  these 
two  reticent  souls  ever  needed  between  them.  She 
knew  he  was  at  heart  tenderer  than  he  was  stern 
or  narrow.  He  knew  she  could  be  strong,  why 
should  they  talk  and  hurt  her  ? 

When  they  reached  home,  he  fussed  about  in  an 
almost  womanish  fashion,  locked  up  the  doors,  did 
Agnes's  duties  so  far  as  he  could,  talked  quite  bright- 
ly of  things  suggested  by  nothing  in  particular,  and 
when  she  left  him  with  a  brief,  good  night,  he  looked 
after  her  sorrowfully. 

Up  in  her  room,  alone  at  last,  Agnes  sat  down, 
shivering  in  the  shadow  of  the  great  church  tow- 
er, to  think  what  had  befallen  her,  what  she  had 
lost  or  what  had  failed  her.  When  she  ceased  be- 
ing numb  and  bewildered,  must  she  be  ashamed  ? 


1 88  EUNICE    LATH  HOP,    SPINSTEK. 

So  she  was  the  young  girl,  who  over  a  year  ago, 
stood  here  one  night  and  said,  "  I  will  give  all,  seek 
nothing,  ask  back  nothing,  abide  purely  and  with  a 
free  confidence,  and  Darkness  shall  not  tread  me 
down."  Her  giving  had  been  a  wasting;  nobody 
was  the  better  or  the  richer  for  it,  only  she  seemed 
infinitely  poorer.  It  must  be  that  she  had  asked 
something  back  after  all,  and  had  deceived  herself. 
She  had  tried  to  love  as  an  angel  might,  in  a  fine,  su- 
perhuman fashion,  and  she  was  only  a  girl.  But  no 
one  knew  it,  only  her  father  guessed  a  little,  so  she 
need  not  be  ashamed.  Rushmore  believed  what  he 
had  made  known  would  cause  her  pleasure — or  did 
he  only  pretend  to  believe  so  ?  If  she  had  loved 
him,  was  it  not  because  he  had  been  drawing  her  to 
it  aimlessly,  but  surely  ?  In  the  bitter  struggle  to 
find  herself,  that  belief  held  the  "Darkness"  that 
cruelly  "trod"  her  "down."  When  all  noise  within 
and  without  the  house  had  ceased,  when  midnight 
had  passed,  she  was  thinking  still — having  a  vision 
of  Annie  as  she  sat  singing  in  the  light,  her  face  ra- 
diant, her  voice  joyful.  She  rose  up  quickly,  crept 
down  the  stairs,  and  out  under  the  solemn  trees. 
Quite  across  the  graveyard  on  a  stone,  was  cut  her 
name:  Agnes  Hathaway.  Face  down,  close  clinging 
to  the  mound,  the  child  Agnes,  used  to  sob  out  un- 
speakable griefs,  as  near  to  the  mother  as  she  could 


THE    TEA-PARTY.  189 

get.  So  this  night,  the  child  grown  older,  must 
come  again — not  shedding  tears,  not  even  praying 
yet,  only  being  "  human "  a  while,  getting  still 
enough  within  to  ask  how  she  might  hereafter 
"abide  firmly;"  for  to  be  conquered  was  not  in 
Agnes  Hathaway. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 
A   Small  Bigot. 

EARLY  one  misty  morning,  what  appeared  to  be 
a  phantom  cab  and  a  horse,  whose  outline 
was  merely  sketched  on  the  atmosphere,  stood  be- 
fore the  mildewed  facade  of  Mrs.  Cudlip's  boarding 
house.  Spectral  forms  flitted  in  and  out  of  a  black 
hole  in  the  gray  fog — probably  a  door;  one  small 
ghost  was  particularly  lively.  Voices  talked  of  a  box 
"  to  go  inside; "  why  pay  sixpence  for  so  light  a  one 
to  go  "on  top"?  Mrs.  Cudlip's  voice  was  plainly 
heard,  as  her  large  dark  form  met  and  embraced  the 
lively  small  one.  She  said,  "I've  put  you  up  a  tart- 
let and  a  veal-and-ham  pie;  and  directly  you  leave 
the  booking-office  put  your  purse  up  safely.  You're 
a  good  little  fellow,  Guy,"  then  the  shrill  note  of  the 
drab  one  came  in,  herself  invisible  by  reason  of  her 
color,  which  matched  the  fog.  "  Yes,  indeed,  good 
luck  to  ye !  It'll  be  long  before  I  find  a  rale  lord  to 
love  like  ye."  There  was  a  kiss  or  two,  another  fare- 


A    SMALL    BIGOT.  191 

well  sounded  from  the  Scientist  in  the  hole  of  a 
door,  and  then  the  two  short  shadowy  legs  made 
a  final  circuit,  the  cab  was  swallowed  up  in  the  va- 
por, an  unseen  old  shoe  rushed  through  the  air  and 
splashed  into  a  puddle — Guy  was  on  his  way  to 
America !  His  brave  little  heart  swelled  with  hope. 
He  had  appropriated  much  curious  information  from 
the  Scientist  and  the  servants,  the  butcher's  boy  and 
the  postman,  from  everybody  he  had  collided  with 
in  Fitzroy  Square.  The  roaring  Atlantic  had  been 
so  pictured  to  his  imagination  that  he  no  longer 
sighed  for  desert  sands.  The  drab  one  had  not 
been  able  to  tell  him  what  variety  of  wild  beasts 
predominated  on  that  farther  shore,  toward  which 
he  sailed;  but  she  declared  herself  willing,  any  time, 
to  vouch  for  "  one  devil,  over  there,  quite  lively 
enough  for  a  mouthful  of  a  saint  like  himself."  Guy 
saw  nothing  very  suggestive  in  her  statement,  or 
any  hint  of  the  devil's  sex. 

Mrs.  Cudlip  had  tried  in  every  way  to  secure  him 
a  comfortable  passage.  He  was  cared  for  in  Liver- 
pool by  friends,  and  placed  in  good  quarters  on  the 
steamer.  The  days  that  came  were  full  of  enjoy- 
ment. He  saw  everything  about  the  boat,  inter- 
preted much  of  it  to  suit  himself,  listened  to  every- 
body's yarns,  and  made  many  friends.  He  kept  his 
pious  comicalities  for  one  or  two  old  sailors,  who  re- 


192  EUNICE    LATffROP,    SPINSTER. 

ceived  them  in  pretty  good  faith;  and  in  return, 
dealt  our  a  few  equally  marvellous  tales  relating 
to  sea  life.  Sometimes,  not  often,  he  was  home- 
sick for  Sister  Ursula,  and  hoped  that  his  mother 
would  be  like  her;  all  the  mothers  he  had  ever 
known  by  sight  were  the  ones  in  altar  pictures — 
sad,  but  looking  down,  out  of  very  loving  eyes  at 
the  Child. 

The  steamer  made  a  quick  passage  and  came  into 
New  York  Bay  one  beautiful  Sunday  morning.  The 
purser,  who  had  taken  charge  of  Guy  during  the 
voyage,  put  him  on  a  train  going  to  Waldenton, 
gave  the  conductor  instructions-  about  him,  and  tel- 
egraphed to  Mrs.  Melton  that  her  son  would  be  in 
town  that  afternoon. 

The  telegram  did  not  reach  the  lady  in  conse- 
quence of  a  slight  mistake  in  the  address,  therefore 
when  Guy  arrived  he  was  sent  to  the  Leigh  mansion. 
The  ladies  were  at  church,  and  the  dull  housekeeper, 
getting  only  a  confused  idea  of  the  state  of  affairs, 
ordered  the  poor  little  stranger  passed  on  to  Mr. 
John  Irving. 

Mr.  Peleg  Irving  was  rejoicing  in  the  delights  of 
his  flower  garden,  eating  harvest  apples,  and  read- 
ing "Travels  in  Palestine,"  when  an  omnibus  halted 
at  his  gate,  a  little  hair-covered  chest  was  dropped, 
and  a  small  traveller  alighting,  was  told  by  the 


A     SMALL    BIGOT.  193 

driver  to  "  run  along  in."  He  opened  the  gate,  saw 
old  Peleg,  and  came  directly  to  him,  standing  while 
Peleg  stared  from  his  sweet  face  to  his  small  shoes, 
back  to  his  big  brown  eyes  that  seemed  to  be  ask- 
ing something  like  the  same  question  put  to  him 
then:  "What  have  you  come  here  for,  little  man  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir." 

•'Who  are  you?" 

"  A — Catholic  male  orphan, — a  half  orphan,"  he 
added,  thinking  it  well  to  be  explicit. 

"  And  where  did  you  come  from  ?" 

"  From  over  the  ocean,  from  where  Aunt  Cudlip 
lives  now  in  Fitzroy  Square,  London — before  that 
it  was  old  St.  Guthlac's." 

It  surpassed  anything  put  down  in  the  book  on 
Palestine,  but  Peleg  must  have  his  joke  even  on  Sun- 
day. He  looked  him  well  over  and  gravely  asked, 
"  Which  half  of  you  is  not  an  orphan  ?  " 

"  My  soul.     It  has  a  Father  in  heaven." 

"That  is  a  fact,  my  child — but  then  you  have  a 
mother,  and  that  is  good." 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  am  going  to  her;  she  is  Mrs.  Elsie 
Melton." 

"Whew!"  was  Peleg's  prolonged  exclamation. 
"  Well,  she  lives  somewhere  very  near  here,  I  be- 
lieve; but  I  don't  know  exactly  where.  We'll  find 
out  sooner  or  later;  you  can  stay  here  among  the 


194  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

flowers  and  make  some  new  friends.  I'd  like  to  get 
acquainted  with  a  live  Britisher  of  your  size.  Have 
you  had  your  dinner  ? " 

Guy  had  been  bountifully  fed  by  the  conductor, 
but  he  pulled  off  his  cap  and  cheerfully  sat  down  on 
the  grass  to  assist  in  devouring  the  apples  with  which 
the  old  man  was  comforting  himself.  If  there  was 
anything  in  his  past  life  that  did  not  come  to  light 
during  that  interview  it  was  through  no  fault  of  kind- 
ly, curious  Peleg.  He  assuredly  did  possess  him- 
self of  some  facts  as  to  the  "friends  in  whose  family" 
little  Guy  had  lived  all  these  years — facts  that  Mrs. 
Melton  had  not  proposed  to  make  public.  It  was 
all  so  interesting  he  regretted  the  sudden  end  put 
to  it  by  his  good  wife's  appearance  on  the  scene. 
She  was  able  to  tell  just  where  Mrs.  Melton  lived, 
and  she  urged  Peleg  to  hasten  with  the  boy  to  his 
poor  mother,  saying,  "  Imagine  her  suspense  !  " 

"  I  can't,"  said  Peleg  dryly;  "  but  I'll  take  him  to 
her  right  away,  all  the  same." 

"  Please  do.  I  want  her  now  very  much.  Is  she 
— will  I  be  very  fond  of  her  ?  " 

"  She  is  a  very  pretty  woman,"  returned  Peleg. 
"  We'll  leave  your  trunk  here  and  have  it  sent  later; 
it  would  look  queer  going  on  Sunday.  This  is  a  quiet 
place,  not  like  London." 

"  O  isn't  it  a  wonderful,  beautiful  place.     I  didn't 


A    SMALL    BIGOT.  195 

see  such  flowers  and  grass  and  trees  in  London," 
cried  Guy,  trotting  around  the  hill  after  his  guide. 
"There  is  a  church,  and  the  tombs  are  out  of  doors  ! 
Are  there  any  lords  and  ladies  and  dogs  buried  over 
there  ?  There,  I  hear  music !.  I  think  maybe  it  is 
High  Mass  now." 

"Good  gracious,"  exclaimed  Peleg,  shaking  with 
suppressed  laughter.  "No,  it  is  not  High  Mass,  but 
it  is  an  hour  of  service.  The  priest  lives  in  this  house 
here,  and  a  nice  little  nun.  Some  day  you  must  go 
and  tell  them  all  about  St.  What-do-you-call-him's  ? 
and  talk  over  your  catechism.  Perhaps  he  does  want 
an  altar-boy." 

Peleg  had  refused  to  go  to  Church  that  afternoon, 
and  here  was  Satan  making  havoc  with  him;  but  he 
smiled  on  the  little  chap  so  benignantly  that  Guy 
exclaimed,  "I  like  you!  I  want  to  come  to  your 
house  very  often." 

They  made  rather  slow  progress,  the  boy  must 
needs  stop  to  pick  white  clover  and  pink  ones,  but- 
tercups and  every  curious  weed  on  his  route,  as  well 
as  listen  to  the  birds  and  the  bees.  A  big  green 
grasshopper  alighted  on  Peleg's  white  vest,  and  Guy 
seeing  it  cried  out,  "  St.  Francis  of  Assisi  used  to 
have  one  ! " 

"One  what?" 

"  One  grasshopper.     It  used  to  come  and  sit  on  a 


196  EUNICE   LATHKOP,    SPINSTER. 

fig-tree  near  his  cell  window.  He  would  say,  '  Sing, 
my  sister,  and  praise  the  Lord  ! '  and  it  would  sing 
right  off  and  keep  on  for  eight  days,  stopping  when 
he  said,  '  Cease,  my  sister,  and  go,'  but  always  com- 
ing if  he  said,  '  Sing  praises."' 

Peleg  drew  a  long  breath.  Oh,  this  was  a  rare 
boy  !  His  theology  was  a  wilder  one  than  Peleg's 
own — but  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  protest  against  this 
particularly  obedient  grasshopper;  so  he  said, 

"  See  here  now,  our  Protestant  hoppers  haven't  any 
voices  worth  mentioning.  I've  heard  they  kick  their 
music  out  with  their  hind  legs." 

"  Do  they  ?  Well  those  Catholic  ones,  like  St. 
Francis's  don't.  They  sing  praises,"  reiterated  Guy 
firmly. 

"  Indeed  !  Well/  if  ours  can  be  pious  and  go 
prancing  about  at  the  rate  they  do — there  is  a 
first-rate  argument  for  dancing — such  as  I've  al- 
ways been  seeking;  but  then  our  priest  couldn't  be 
made  to  believe  it,"  soliloquized  Peleg,  adding  with 
amiable  interest,  a  minute  after,  "  Were  all  those 
that  St.  Francis  was  intimate  with,  Sisters  ?  weren't 
there  any  grasshopper  brothers  that  sang  on  the  'fig- 
tree,  and  ran  eight  days  without  winding  up  ? " 

Guy  suspected  him  and  went  to  chasing  a  white 
butterfly. 

"  Do  you  see  that  tall  dark  house  standing  back 


A    SMALL    BIGOT.  197 

behind  the  evergreens  ?  Your  mother  lives  there. 
I  will  wait  at  the  gate  until  you  see  if  she  is 
home."  , 

The  boy  faltered,  the  buttercups  fell  out  of  his 
fingers. 

"  What  are  you  holding  back  for  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  !  " 

"  Why  she  is  your  mother.'"' 

"  But  I  don't  know  her  !  If  she  should  not  be 
glad  to  see  me — you  come  in  with  me  !  " 

"  See  here,  you  silly  chap  you,  she'll  love  you 
easy  enough,  anybody  could.  You  just  rush  ahead 
and  hug  her  well.  She  wouldn't  want  me  looking 
at  her  when  she  cries  for  joy,"  urged  Peleg,  impos- 
ing on  his  own  credulity. 

They  reached  the  gate.  Guy  ran  up  under  the 
evergreens  and  rapped  with  his  knuckles,  not  being 
tall  enough  to  touch  the  brass  knocker.  The  woman 
who  opened  the  door,  nodded  in  response  to  his  ques- 
tion, so  Peleg  turned  away  when  Guy  was  pointed 
upstairs  and  shut  in.  The  child  crept  slowly  up  in 
what  seemed  darkness  after  the  outer  light,  and  stood 
trembling  outside  another  door.  He  had  a  faint  re- 
alization, young  as  he  was,  that  beyond  this  was 
yet  one  more  barrier  before  he  reached  a  mother's 
heart.  Would  she  let  him  in  there  ?  He  a  little 
stranger  ! 


198  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  thought,  "  I  wish  it  would 
be  Sister  Ursula  I  am  to  see ;"  then  he  knocked 
timidly.  • 

He  heard  a  movement  at  once,  a  step,  then  the 
door  opened  into  a  pleasant  room,  and  a  lady  just 
awakened  from  sleep  stared  at  him.  He  waited  for 
some  question  not  asked,  before  he  said  softly:  "I 
have  come  !  I  am  Guy  !  " 

"  Guy.!  "  she  echoed  in  surprise.  "  Here  so  soon  ! 
Well,  do  let  me  see  you  !  "  She  drew  him  over  the 
threshold,  and  stooping,  gave  him  the  most  search- 
ing look  he  had  ever  received.  It  took  note  of  the 
shade  of  his  eyes,  the  shape  of  his  nose,  the  texture 
of  his  skin — of  everything  but  that  part  of  him  which 
was,  as  he  told  old  Peleg — not  the  half  orphan,  and 
so  Guy's  instinct  almost  divined  that  the  long  look 
was  somehow  superficial.  But  she  satisfied  herself 
that,  so  far  as  his  personal  appearance  was  concerned 
she  need  never  be  ashamed  of  him — then  she  kissed 
hiiri  very  deliberately.  She  had  nothing  against  him 
except  that  he  existed  at  all,  and  she  occasionally 
admitted  to  herself  that  he  was  not  to  blame  for 
that  fact. 

"Are  you  glad  to  see  me?"  he  inquired,  looking 
her  well  over,  in  his  turn. 

"  Of  course.  When  did  you  get  here,  and  who 
brought  you  to  me  ? " 


A    SMALL    BIGOT.  199 

He  told  her  what  he  could  tell,  sat  down,  crossed 
his  legs  as  his  habit  was,  and  prepared  to  get  ac- 
quainted; but  when  he  had  told  her  the  latest  news 
in  Mrs.  Cudlip's  establishment  and  a  little  about  his 
voyage,  her  interest  in  him  had  abated.  She  lan- 
guidly remarked  that  he  might  amuse  himself  in  any 
way  he  liked,  and  added  that  he  would  soon  feel  at 
home.  He  examined  with  quiet  curiosity  her  simple 
room  arrangements,  finding  much  that  seemed  novel 
and  interesting.  He  liked  extremely  the  view  from 
her  western  windows,  and  it  was  standing  there  that 
he  saw  for  the  first  time  a  magnificent  sunset.  He 
received  the  impression  that  it  must  be  something 
peculiar  to  Sunday  afternoons  in  America,  and  was 
awestruck  as  at  a  miracle.  An  hour  or  two  later 
he  bowed  his  head  like  a  bullrush  and  was  about  to 
roll  off  his  chair  to  the  carpet,  when  his  mother  came 
to  the  rescue  and  sent  him  to  a  softer  bed.  When 
apparently  asleep,  he  suddenly  roused  up  to  ask: 
"  What  shall  I  call  you  ?  Are  you  Sister  anybody — 
or  shall  I  say  my  mother  ?  " 

"Certainly  you  must  call  me  that,"  she  replied 
hastily] 

"  And  you  may  call  me  Lord  Kew." 

"  Go  to  sleep !  You  talk  in  a  very  silly  way  for  a 
child  of  your  age  ! " 

"  Good  night,"  he  returned  meekly,  and  dozed  off 


200  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

with  his  prayers  half  said,  but  the  rosary  was 
clutched  tightly  in  his  small  hand  as  proof  of  his 
good  intentions  in  that  direction. 

He  slept  very  late  the  next  day  and  awakened  to 
find  his  little  "box"  unpacked  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.  Peleg  had  sent  it  the  evening  before  and 
Mrs.  Melton  had  opened  it.  She  had  directed 
Mrs.  Cudlip  to  put  in  something  left  behind  her. 
Mrs.  Cudlip,  for  reasons  not  apparent,  had  not  done 
this  and  her  negligence  made  Mrs.  Melton  very  much 
vexed  and  not  in  a  mood  to  respond  to  Guy's  cheer- 
ful greeting.  Even  before  he  was  dressed  she  ex- 
claimed: "Don't  chatter  all  the  time,  I  can't  think. 
I  can  tell  you  that  you  must  learn  to  be  still,  if  you 
live  with  me  ! " 

He  was  subdued  for  a  time,  then  he  asked:  "  May 
1  go  and  see  the  old  man  in  the  flower  garden,  and 
the  priest  and  the  nun." 

"  There  are  no  priests  here  for  you  to  know,  and 
remember  that  I  do  not  wish  you  to  tell  about  the 
Orphan  Asylum  or  where  you  lived  before  you  were 
at  Mrs.  Cudlip' s — not  a  word." 

"  I  have  told  every  bit  of  it  to  the  old  man." 

"  You  have  done  that  already !  And  did  you  tell 
him  you  never  had  seen  me  ? "  broke  from  the 
woman. 

The  glare  in  her  yellow  eyes  made  the  wonder 


A    SMALL    BIGOT.  2OI 

ing  child  shrink,  but  he  answered:  "  Yes — he  asked 
me  if  I  knew  you." 

She  raised  her  delicate  hand  and  struck  a 'blow 
that  made  him  reel.  Never  in  his  homeless  days 
had  he  been  so  hurt — but  chiefly  in  his  heart,  first 
that,  then  he  was  enraged.  His  dark  eyes  reflected 
back  the  fury  of  her  own  expression. 

"  Now  hear  !  You  are  my  child — you  are  to  live 
with  me — if  you  tell  tales,  I  will  whip  you,  or  I  will 
find  out  what  you  fear  most  and  do  that  to  you.  I 
hate  a  tattling  brat.  Another  thing.  /  am  not  a 
Roman  Catholic,  you  must  stop  all  this  talk  of  Sis- 
ters and  Fathers  and  foolery,  I — "  She  stopped 
short,  and  gliding  in  her  always  graceful  way  to  the 
tumbled  bed,  picked  off  the  pillow,  Guy's  beads,  and 
flung  them  straight  through  the  window,  saying,  as 
her  temper  cooled  a  little:  "That  old  brass  crucifix 
on  them  will  make  your  fingers  sore,  I  won't  have  it 
around  !  Now  go  eat  your  breakfast ! " 

He  gasped  a  second — rushed  by  her  like  a  whirl- 
wind, down  the  stairs,  out  into  the  dark  grass  under 
the  rusty  evergreens,  found  the  beads  caught  on  a 
twig,  flung  himself  close  to  the  earth,  and  cried  in 
wild  grief  and  anger,  rolled  and  beat  his  crazy  little 
pate  as  if  to  get  out  of  it  the  "foolery"  that  was 
about  all  there  was  in  it.  Oh!  he  thought  if  he  were 
only  back  washing  the  everlasting  salads  with  the 


202  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

scullion,  who  was  kind  to  him — back  with  icy  an- 
cient Lady  Kew,  who  never  lifted  her  hard  hand  to 
him — or  away,  away  in  the  again-longed-for  desert, 
with  his  desecrated  little  crucifix,  best  of  all  if  some 
dear,  converted,  wild  beast  had  him  and  not  his 
mother!  Alas,  Lord  Kew! 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

The   Spinster  speaks   again  —  and  Agnes. 


>  Mrs-  Irving,  I  must  and  shall  talk  to 
you  !  A  woman  like  me  must  talk,  and  it 
had  best  be  to  some  close-mouthed  person  like  your- 
self. I  have  held  my  tongue  to  Miss  Leigh  when  it 
would  have  seemed  easier  to  swallow  it." 

"Well,  Eunice,  what  is  it  now?" 

"  Oh,  what  that  widow  means  surpasses  my  un- 
derstanding, for  she  is  deceitful  enough  not  to  seem 
so  one  bit,  but  quite  the  contrary.  I  have  always 
advised  Annie  not  to  make  a  confidante  of  her;  that 
is  the  most  I  have  ever  said  against  her." 

"  Does  she  know  of  Miss  Leigh's  engagement  to 
Mr.  Rushmore  ?  " 

"  She  must  suspect,  but  she  has  never  spoken  as 
if  she  knew.  As  long  ago  as  the  night  of  the  tea- 
party,  we  sat  in  the  parlor  after  the  guests  were 
gone  and  I  was  wondering  what  made  her  —  the 
widow,  I  mean  —  look  so  elated,  when  she  astonished 


204  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

us  by  saying  she  had  a  child  in  London,  and  that 
she  had  sent  for  it.  That  is,  she  bnoke  out:  'Oh, 
just  think  of  the  goodness  of  that  man!  Mr.  Rush- 
more  has  done  it.  He  insisted  on  furnishing  the 
money  and  finding  out  how  he  could  be  sent ! '  I 
•must  have  looked  particularly  surprised  at  that,  for 
she  rattled  on:  '  I  never  should  have  allowed  it,  but 
before  I  ever  saw  you,  dear  friends,  he  was  at  home 
in  our  house  in  London,  and  knew  all  our  family 
trials.  He  told  me  to  explain  this  money  matter  to 
you,  for  of  course  it  would  look  odd  under  some  cir- 
cumstances.' Annie  was  puzzled,  but  she  is  as  large- 
minded  as  she  is  ignorant  of  the  ways  of  the  world; 
she  remarked  on  it  afterwards  as  a  proof  of  Mr.  Rush- 
more's  great  kindness  and  generosity.  I  believe  he 
lent  it  to  her;  though  if  a  man  could  be  fascinated 
by  her  and  be  sincerely  in  love  with  Annie  Leigh 
at  the  same  time,  I  should  say  Rushmore  was  the 
man.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  could  not  know  it,  and  should  not 
say  it — above  all,  put  such  an  idea  into  Miss  Leigh's 
head." 

"If  she  did  not  think  it  herself  before  Mrs.  Mel- 
ton left,  of  course  she  does  not  now." 

"  Oh,  then  it  is  all  a  thing  of  the  past." 

"  No,  ma'am,  it  is  not  by  any  means  !  "  said  Miss 
Eunice  with  intensity  of  emphasis.  "  What  do  you 


THE  SPINSTER  SPEAKS  AGAIN— AND  AGNES.    205 

suppose  I  heard  at  our  sewing  society  only  yester- 
day afternoon  ?  I  heard  that  it  was  commonly  re- 
ported that  Mr.  Rushmore  was  engaged  to  Mrs. 
Melton  in  England,  that  it  was  through  his  influ- 
ence she  was  first  induced  to  come  to  America,  that 
on  the  voyage  he  had  broken  his  engagement  to  her 
and  attached  himself  to  Miss  Leigh;  that  he  did  it 
so  artfully  that  Mrs.  Melton  kept  silence;  now  he 
was  half  afraid  of  her,  half  in  love  with  her  still,  and 
so  befriended  her." 

"  This  is  not  a  story  any  outsider  could  very  well 
make  out  of  nothing.  Mrs.  Melton  must  have  told 
it  herself.  Have  you  ever  thought  that  it  might  be 
strictly  true  ? " 

"Never!" 

"  Well,  it  might  be;  and  in  that  case  the  least  said 
about  it  the  better." 

Miss  Eunice,  although  still  in  gasping  surprise, 
resented  that  bit  of  advice. 

"  There  never  would  be  much  of  anything  said  any- 
way, Martha  Irving,  if  you  had  your  choice.  You're 
wiser  than  old  Solomon  himself,  for  you  can't  make 
me  believe  that  when  his  seven  hundred  wives  told 
him  what  was  going  on  in  the  world,  they  didn't  get 
considerable  talk  out  of  him." 

"I  know  they  did,  Eunice;  it  is  expressly  declared 
they  '  turned  away  his  heart '  from  his  old  wisdom." 


206  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

"Well,  let  that  go — but  I  don't  believe  one  word 
of  this  other  matter.  I  can't.  That  woman  of 
whom  Mrs.  Melton  hires  her  rooms  has  been  spread- 
ing some  of  the  stories.  She  does  not  mention 
Miss  Leigh's  name,  but  I  hear  she  has  said  that  Mr. 
Rushmore  is  constantly  sending  letters  to  Mrs. 
Melton,  and  has  been  to  see  her;  and  she  thinks 
from  what  she  has  seen  that  he  is  going  to  marry 
her.  She  has  seen  him  send  law  papers,  I  have  no 
doubt." 

"  You  ought  to  go  directly  to  Mrs.  Melton,  and 
tell  her  all  this." 

"  She  would  slip  out  of  it  before  I  had  half  told 
her,  and  trap  me  into  saying  something  foolish." 

"Then  you  could  put  Mr.  Rushmore  on  his  guard." 

"  I  don't  know  how,"  said  the  elderly  maiden. 
"  I  should  make  a  dreadful  mess  of  it." 

"Then  middle-town  folks  must  gossip.  If  Mrs. 
Melton  does  not  care  for  herself,  you  need  not  meddle 
with  her  part  of  the  affair.  If  Mr.  Rushmore  is  above 
suspicion,  he  will  not  be  hurt  by  the  silly  tales;  if 
he  is  acting  deceitfully,  the  sooner  it  is  found  out 
the  better." 

"  Very  well,  then,  I  will  be  as  silent  as  a  sphinx," 
said  Miss  Eunice,  going  home,  relieved,  inasmuch 
as  she  had  said  something,  even  if  she  had  done 
nothing. 


THE  SPINSTER  SPEAKS  AGAIN—AND  AGNES.    207 

It  was  a  fact  that  many  tongues  were  busy  about 
this  time.  The  advent  of  Miss  Leigh,  ycung,  pret- 
ty, and  rich,  had  but  just  been  thoroughly  discussed, 
when  her  engagement  to  Rushmore  was  announced. 
Mr.  Rushmore,  senior,  immediately  told  his  friends 
of  his  son's  happy  prospects  and  his  own  satisfaction. 
All  this  was  freely  talked  of  in  the  upper-town  be-1 
fore  these  later  rumors  began  to  creep  up  hill  as 
they  did  creep,  slowly  but  surely.  Peleg  and  John 
Irving  heard  them,  but  not  at  home.  Agnes  Hath- 
away, going  more  quietly  than  ever  about  her  usual 
occupations,  was  not  long  ignorant  of  the  buzzing 
around  her  ears.  Then  some  of  the  communicative 
women  of  the  sort  to  run  to  any  parsonage  with  the 
wants,  the  troubles  and  the  sins  of  the  parish;  some 
of  these  told  her  the  gossip,  and  awakened  her  to 
the  fact  that  all  Waldenton  was  gaping,  question- 
ing, surmising,  even  sighing  and  head-shaking,  as 
over  some  mystery,  or  perhaps  a  wickedness.  She 
resolved  to  go  and  ask  Mrs.  Irving  what  could  be 
done  to  prevent  the  stories  from  reaching  Miss 
Leigh,  and  to  put  an  end  to  them. 

Mrs.  Irving  was  very  glad  to  see  her. 

"  The  gossip  in  one  way  chiefly  concerns  Mrs. 
Melton,  she  is  the  person  to  declare  there  is  no 
truth  in  it.  She  is  being  grossly  misinterpreted,  or 
else  she  is  making  mischief  deliberately.  It  is  wis- 


208  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

est  and  kindest  to  go  directly  to  her.  Will  you  do 
it  ? " 

"I,"  said  Agnes,  much  startled. 

"  Yes,  you  are  Miss  Leigh's  friend,  and  Mr.  Rush- 
more's  also,  and  you  may  keep  them  from  some  grave 
misunderstanding  hereafter." 

A  faint  flush  crept  over  the  young  girl's  face; 
but  soon  she  asked,  "How  will  Mrs.  Melton  re- 
ceive me  ?  I  think  she  is  a  great  deal  shrewder  than 
I  am !" 

"  Perhaps." 

"  Would  not  an  older  woman  know  better  how 
to  approach  her  ?  If  she  is  a  good  woman  I  may 
grieve  her  more  than  I  need,  and  if  she  is  not,  I 
may  only  make  her  angry." 

"  Some  one  ought  to  go  to  her,  and  there  is  no 
one  who  would  do  any  better  than  you." 

Agnes  sat  a  while  in  silence. 

"  When  will  you  go,"  asked  Mrs.  Irving. 

"  When  do  you  think  it  best  ?  " 

"  This  afternoon." 

"  You  are  sure  it  is  wise  ?  " 

Mrs.  Irving  waited  a  minute  before  she  answered 
earnestly,  "Yes,  Agnes,  it  seems  to  me  the  best  and 
kindest  thing  that  we  can  do." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  go." 


THE  SPINSTER  SPEAKS  AGAIN— AND  AGNES.   209 

Mrs.  Melton  was  softly  dusting  her  cheek  with  a 
pink  powder  puff,  when  there  came  a  knock  on  the 
door  of  her  outer  apartment.  She  waited  to  see  that 
the  puff  was  shut  into  its  box,  that  her  attire  was 
as  becoming  as  usual,  then  yawning  lazily,  she  went 
to  meet  the  milkman  or  the  grocer's  boy,  as  she  sup- 
posed. Lo,  it  was  Miss  Hathaway!  Mrs.  Melton 
welcomed  her  quite  effusively,  secretly  wondering 
what  had  brought  her  there.  She  seated  Agnes  in 
the  easiest  chair,  said  she  had  heard  "so  much"  of 
her  from  Miss  Leigh,  and  did  not  express  her  real 
surprise  that  a  poor  minister's  daughter  should  have 
"  hit  upon  "  just  the  style  of  dress,  tone  and  manners 
suited  to  her  face  and  figure.  They  talked  very 
easily  together  for  a  while,  Agnes  asking  about 
the  little  boy,  whom  she  had  not  yet  seen,  and  Mrs. 
Melton  declaring  him  to  be  an  oddity.  When  Ag- 
nes, getting  a  little  pale  as  she  spoke,  remarked, 
after  a  chance  allusion  of  the  widow's  to  Mr.  Rush- 
more's  interest  in  Guy,  that  this  gentleman's  en- 
gagement to  Miss  Leigh  seemed  to  have  been  made 
public  very  soon;  although  of  course  there  was  no 
reason  for  keeping  it  a  secret. 

"Could  anything  ever  be  kept  quiet  in  a  town 
like  this,  do  you  think,  Miss  Hathaway  ?  "  ventured 
the  widow  in  her  mellow,  laughing  tone. 

"There  is  far  too  much  gossip  in  Waldenton;  and 


210  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

every  now  and  then  very  absurd  and  harmful  stories 
get  set  afloat.  I  have  come  to  tell  you  of  some  to- 
day," said  Agnes,  beginning  at  once  in  the  most 
straightforward  way  to  tell  Mrs.  Melton  everything, 
adding  no  comment,  omitting  no  item.  She  was  not 
interrupted  by  one  word  until  she  ended;  then  Mrs. 
Melton,  in  a  half  distressed,  half  defiant  tone,  abrupt- 
ly exclaimed, 

"It  is  all  about  me,  to  be  sure,  but  what  have  I  to 
do  about  it  ?  Why  have  you  not  gone  to  Mr.  Rush- 
more  ?  or  to  Miss  Leigh  ?  They  know  your  towns- 
people; they  can  contradict  what  they  think  is  un- 
true. I  am  a  stranger  here.  I  cannot  rush  about 
your  streets  crying  at  random,  '  These  are  lies ! 
Everything  said  about  me  is  false  ! ' ' 

"  I  came  to  you  because  I  reasoned  that  if  I  were 
in  your  place  and  you  were  in  mine,  I  would  wish 
you  to  come  to  me.  If  any  careless  thing  you  have 
said  or  done  has  by  chance  started  these  rumors, 
which  now  almost  amount  to  reflections  upon  your 
reputation,  you,  and  not  some  one  else,  ought  to  be 
told  of  it.  Plain  dealing  in  such  circumstances  is 
the  only  kindness.  To  go  to  Miss  Leigh  would  be 
to  wound  her  deeply  and  perhaps  needlessly.  I 
hope  it  would  be  needless." 

"  And  does  it  not  wound  me  ? " 

"  I  know  it  must,   Mrs.   Melton,  and  I  am  very 


THE  SPINSTER  SPEAKS  AGAIN— AND  AGNES.    211 

sorry  to  hurt  you;  but  you  would  rather  endure  the 
trouble  and  mortification  of  it  all  than  to  have  her 
endure  anything  of  the  kind,  when  she  has  been 
your  firm  friend  from  the  day  you  first  met  her,  as 
you  yourself  have  declared  so  often." 

"  Of  course,"  returned  the  widow  slowly.  "  But 
do  you  think  it  can  be  kept  from  her  ? " 

"  Who  would  tell  her  anything  ?  As  for  Mr. 
Rushmore,"  said  Agnes,  eagerly  looking  her  in  the 
face,  "  if  all  that  concerns  his  friendship — his  pre- 
vious relations — I  mean,"  she  stammered,  "if  all 
these  reports  are  false,  I  am  sure  you  would  endure 
almost  anything  rather  than  have  him  hear  them. 
That  one  word  of  them  could  be  true,  I  have  never 
let  myself  believe." 

"Allow  me,  Miss  Hathaway,  to  ask  why  Mr.  Rush- 
more's  friendship  may  not  be  for  me  as  well  as  for 
yourself?" 

No  one  would  have  known  by  her  tone  if  the 
speaker  was  insulted  or  only  meant  to  be  insulting. 

Agnes  quietly  answered,  "  I  said  friendship  out  of 
delicacy.  I  can  say,  if  you  make  me,  reports  of  an 
intimacy  which,  considering  his  engagement  with 
Miss  Leigh,  is  not  respectful  toward  her  on  his  part, 
and  is,  for  the  same  reason,  unkind  in  you.  The  ru-  ; 
mor  that  he  is  to  marry  you  has  outrun  the  truth  of 
his  engagement  to  her — in  middle-town  at  least," 


212  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

Mrs.  Melton  meditated  a  moment,  then  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands,  and  it  is  to  be  presumed 
that  she  burst  into  tears.  Agnes  relented  to  a  de- 
gree that  she  would  not  have  thought  possible  the 
instant  before:  "Don't  think  I  am  hard  or  cruel  to 
say  these  things  to  you.  It  does  hurt  me.  You  are 
a  stranger;  and  before  I  came  here,  I  remembered 
that  away  back  in  old  Jewish  times  God  commanded 
His  people  to  be  very  tender  of  the  strangers  among 
them;  but  then  this  other  thing  distresses  me.  I 
have  not  known  Annie  Leigh  one  half  as  long  as  you 
have  known  her,  but  I  can  see  that  her  whole  hap- 
piness now  is  in  Mr.  Rushmore's  love.  She  is  so 
spirited  and  full  of  faith  in  him  that  a  blow  to  that 
faith  would  be  terrible." 

"  Humph,"  sobbed  the  widow.  "  He  is  only  com- 
mon clay,  and  she'll  find  it  out  before  she  has  wor- 
shipped him  very  long.  I  know  him  better  than  she 
does  now." 

No  answer  from  Agnes  coming  to  that  remark, 
the  lady  rubbed  her  eyes  with  the  back  of  her  pretty 
hand,  in  a  childlike  way,  and  continued  pettishly, 
"I  don't  see  yet  what  you  want  of  me.  I  am  sorry 
enough  for  anybody  who  is  not  always  going  to 
find  this  earth  a  heaven,  but  I  pity  myself  more  than 
any  one  else.  I've,  usually  found  it  purgatory." 

"I  came  to  you  believing  you  had  a  heart  and  a 


THE  SPINSTER  SPEAKS  AGAIN— AND  AGNRS.    ?lj 

conscience  and  good  sense,  Mrs.  Melton.  I  wanted 
to  know  how  to  put  an  end  to  this  gossip." 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  do  that.  Gossip  never  is 
to  be  suppressed. 

"  This  must  be  stopped.  You  know,  do  you  not, 
that  Mr.  Rushmore  is  to  marry  Miss  Leigh  ? " 

"  You  tell  me  he  is;  neither  one  of  them  has  ever 
said  so  in  my  hearing." 

"You  believe  from  what  you  have  seen,  do  you 
not,  that  they  love  one  another  ?  " 

"  I  believe  that  she  loves  him,"'  returned  Mrs. 
Melton,  very  coolly.  "I  doubt  if  he  knows  whom 
he  does  love — I — have  reason  to  suppose  that  he 
thought  in  the  past — that  he  loved  some  one  else." 
She  gave  Agnes  a  significant  glance  which  star- 
tled her  almost  to  faintness.  In  the  brief  silence 
that  ensued,  neither  woman  at  all  understood  the 
other,  each  one's  thoughts  were  of  self,  after  the 
fashion  of  each  one's  character. 

"  The  matter  is  just  here,  Miss  Hathaway,"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Melton  in  an  impulsive  way,  and  ris- 
ing suddenly  to  walk  the  room.  "  I  will  tell  you 
something  now  in  confidence.  I  knew  Mr.  Rush- 
more  in  London  before  Miss  Leigh  ever  saw  him; 
we  were  boarding  in  the  same  house — at  my  aunt's 
in  fact — naturally  I  saw  him  constantly;  I  don't  care 
now  to  tell  just  what  that  acquaintance  did  amount 


214  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

to,  for  I  can  see  that  you  do  not  think  that  a  friend- 
ship between  us  is  a  thing  likely  to  exist;  but  I  can 
assure  you  that  Julian  Rushmore  is  a  very  much 
more  susceptible  man  than  you  may  suppose.  He 
is  at  present  engaged  to  Miss  Leigh,  you  say.  All 
very  well,  but  she  loved  him  before  she  had  any 
reason  to  think  he  meant  to — " 

"  That  is  nothing  to  me  or  to  you,"  put  in  Agnes, 
quickly. 

"  No — I  only  mean  he  let  her  learn  to  like  him  while 
he  was  finding  out  his  own  mind;  he  gave  her  reason 
enough  to  do  so,  as  he  has  given  others,  if  we  only 
knew  it;  perhaps  one  of  us  does  know,  to  our  sorrow." 

She  certainly  expected  to  startle  Agnes  with  the 
intimation  that  Rushmore  had  won  her  heart  before 
she  left  London;  but  she  was  incited  to  further  efforts 
by  the  indignant  light  in  her  eyes,  and  as  the  girl  rose 
up  before  her;  she  went  on  impetuously.  "Yes,  I 
came  to  America  encouraged  by  him.  He  showed 
me  very  great  kindness  on  the  way,  and  later,  when 
he  could  not  show  any  interest  in  my  welfare,  with- 
out exciting  suspicion,  he  helped  me  find  this  home. 
He  provided  me  with  means  to  send  for  my  child. 
He  has  all  along  given  me  work  and  paid  me  for  it. 
If  you  or  others  choose  to  call  this  kindness  by  hard 
names — why,  do  so!  I  do  not  care  for  meddlesome 
prattlers." 


THE  SPINSTER  SPEAKS  AGAIN— AND  AGNES.    215 

"  Do  you  care  for  your  pure  name  and  for  another 
woman's  happiness  ?  You  keep  me  repeatedly  ask- 
ing these  questions,"  said  the  young  girl  sternly. 

"  I  care  for  myself  first  and  any  other  woman 
next,  if  you  pretend  to  do  more  than  that,  I  only 
believe  that  you  are  a  hypocrite." 

"  If  what  you  cared  for  most  and  had  in  your 
power — if  that  should  be  another  woman's  right 
would  not  you  put  yourself  one  side  and  let  her 
have  it.  Would  not  something  in  you  make  you 
do  it  ? " 

"  Self-sacrifice  is  always  easy — when  it  is  an- 
other's self  one  sacrifices,"  sneered  Mrs.  Melton 
languidly. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  I  wish  you  to  do  ? " 

"  I  have   told  you  already  that  I  do  not  know." 

"  You  force  me  to  make  direct  charges,  or  else  to 
ask  questions  that  will  seem  impertinent." 

"  Why  you  seem  to  me  so  far  to  be  doing  all  that 
sort  of  thing  quite  unprovoked,"  she  retorted,  her 
eyes  gleaming  with  gratification  to  see  how  this 
girl  must  go  in  straight  lines  and  so  made  no  head- 
way, for  to  slip  under  coverts  to  go  backwards,  to 
dodge,  tease  and  baffle  her  was  easy  sport. 

"  Do  you  love  Mr.  Rushmore,  Mrs.  Melton  ? " 

"  Oh,  you  preposterous  creature  ! "  laughed  the 
widow.  "  What  a  question  to  put  to  me  !  If  I  did 


2l6  EUNICE  ,LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

love  him,  should  I  confess  it  to  the  best  friend  of 
his  fiancee  f  " 

"  It  occurred  to  me  just  now,  that  you  wanted  me 
to  infer  you  loved  him.  If  not,  perhaps  you  have 
meant  that  he  has  more  than  the  simplest  interest 
in  you." 

Mrs.  Melton  half  closed  her  eyelids,  toyed  with 
the  tassels  of  a  sofa  cushion,  asked  coquettishly: 
"  Well — what  if  he  is  just  a  little,  let  us  say,  in  love 
with  me  ? " 

Before  Agnes's  inner  vision  came  Annie,  in  her 
girlish  loveliness,  while  her  actual  glance  revealed 
this  woman's  face  in  the  honest  sunshine,  fade,  rouged, 
with  something  sinister  about  the  lips.  She  made 
no  answer. 

"  And  what,  Miss  Hathaway,  if  he  does  love 
me  ? " 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  he  does." 

From  that  moment,  Mrs.  Melton  hated  her,  for  to 
this  conclusion,  Agnes  had  come  in  studying  her 
face.  The  girl  secretly  doubted  its  power,  and  that 
was  for  this  woman  a  more  unpardonable  offence 
than  to  doubt  her  goodness. 

"  I  don't  dispute  you  for  a  moment,  dear  Miss 
Hathaway,  but  if  you- are  so  sure  of  this  last  point, 
why  are  you  anxious  about  Miss  Leigh's  peace  of 
mind  ?  It  seems  to  be  no  concern  of  ours.  As  to 


THE  SPINSTER  SPEAKS  AGAIN— AND  AGNES.    21 J 

your  curiosity  about  Mr.  Rushmore's  sentiments,  I 
really  can't  gratify  it,  while  of  course  I  thank  you  for 
the  interest  you  have  taken  in  me." 

She  gazed  in  placid  malice  at  her  guest,  who  was 
disheartened,  but  not  personally  piqued.  Her  one 
thought  was  to  understand  Mrs.  Melton,  and  so  far 
Agnes's  efforts  to  get  at  her  ruling  motive  had  been 
like  chasing  a  globule  of  quicksilver.  Now  there 
was  one — now  more,  these  separating  or  uniting,  all 
equally  elusive. 

"  If  you  do  not  see  why  I  came,  I  cannot  make  it 
any  plainer,"  she  said,  going  toward  the  door. 

Mrs.  Melton  bowing  gracefully,  led  the  way;  but 
Agnes,  almost  on  the  threshold,  turned,  unable  to 
give  all  up  so  feebly:  "It  seems  to  me  you  have 
some  influence  over  Mr.  Rushmore,  how  or  why  you 
have  it,  you  know  best.  Don't  you  wish  to  use  it 
for  his  good  ?  What  power  can  a  pure  woman  want 
over  a  man  except  to  hold  him  to  what  she  sees  is 
honorable  and  generous  ?  Even  if  it  were  or  had 
been  love — can  you  love  any  one  down  instead  of  up  ? 
I  thought  when  I  came  here,  perhaps  you  did  not 
know  of  Mr.  Rushmore's  engagement,  and  had  let 
yourself  think  more  of  him  than  otherwise  you  would 
have  done;  if  this  were  true,  I  could  be  very  sorry 
for  you;  I  would  never  whisper  it  to  anybody  or 
speak  again  of  it  to  you;  but  I  would  have  been  a 


2l8  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

true  friend  to  you.  No  one  should  ever  sneer  at  you 
before  me,  and  I  not  defend  you.  As  for  the  future, 
I  supposed  you  would  do  right  because  it  was  right, 
and  if  you  suffered  yourself,  and  even  believed  Mr. 
Rushmore  might  have  come  to  like  you,  it  would 
help  you  only  to  remember  Annie  Leigh.  I  feel  so 
old,  sometimes,  I  can  almost  put  myself  out  of  my- 
self, and  feel  with  her  mother  when  she  came  to  die, 
and  to  think  of  leaving  her  little  girl  alone  to  grow 
up  to  the  love  or  the  loss  that  she  knew  would  come  to 
her.  She  could  not  know  it  might  be  in  your  power 
to  blacken  the  daylight  for  Annie,  to  make  her  doubt 
all  truthfulness  and  all  love — or  how  horribly  cruel  a 
refusal  to  deal  honorably  by  her  in  any  such  future 
issue  would  have  seemed  !  No,  she  had  to  die,  leav- 
ing her  to  the  mercy  of  the  living.  Now  that  Annie 
is  happy,  can't  we  be  unselfish  enough  to  leave  her 
so  ?  Can  we  be  glad  to  call  God  our  Father,  if  we 
mangle  another  one  of  His  children's  lives  ? "  Ag- 
nes's  eyes  were  full  of  light,  her  cheeks  of  color. 
She  must  move  this  woman  to  some  word  of 
promise. 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  know  the  exact  state  of  Miss 
Leigh's  heart,  and  that  after  a  very  brief  acquaint- 
ance." 

"  I  have  not  known  her  half  as  long  as  you  have 
known  her,  it  is  true,  nor  has  she  ever  had  it  in  her 


THE  SPINSTER  SPEAKS  AGAIN— AND  AGNES.    2ig 

power  to  be  as  kind  to  me  as  she  has  been  to  you, 
but  she  trusts  me  and  I  do  know  her  well." 

"  But  you  don't  know  Mr.  Rushmore." 

Was  it  an  assertion  or  a  question,  this  to  which 
Agnes  answered,  "  If  he  is  an  honorable  man,  I 
do  know  him." 

The  widow  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  remarked 
indifferently:  "  He  is  like  other  men,  not  better,  not 
worse." 

"  I  am  going  now,"  said  Agnes,  looking  at  her  in 
silence  a  moment,  "and  you  will  laugh,  thinking  I 
have  accomplished  nothing.  It  is  true,  because  I 
can't  know  you.  I  never  saw  a  woman  like  you  be- 
fore, and  I  don't  understand  you  by  anything  in  my- 
self. You  have  only  seemed  to  be  able  to  make  me 
think  meaner  thoughts  of  what  people  could  do  or 
be  than  I  ever  have  had  of  the  persons  whose  lives 
could  touch  mine." 

"  I  am  really  sorry,  Miss  Hathaway." 

"  If  you  were  sorry,  I  would  know  it.  I  will  be 
your  friend  yet." 

"You  are  very  winning  with  the  sentimentality 
of  a  girl,  honestly  young  for  her  years,"  returned 
Mrs.  Melton  blandly,  "but  the  fact  is,  I  have  had  so 
many  disillusions  and  rough  experiences,  I  can't  re- 
spond to  your  proffers  of  friendship  heartily  enough 
to  suit  you,  so  I  had  better  not  pretend  anything. 


220  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

We  will  try  and  forget  this  awkward  little  inter- 
view. Guy !  Run  down-stairs  and  open  the  hall 
door  for  the  lady  ! " 

The  boy,  scarcely  noticed  by  Agnes,  came  from 
a  corner  where,  behind  a  heavy  screen,  he  had  his 
playthings,  and  where  he  staid,  if  in  the  house. 
When  outside  the  first  door  he  took  her  hand,  led 
her  downstairs,  and  as  far  as  the  front  gate.  With- 
out speaking,  she  stroked  his  soft  hair  and  left  him, 
perhaps  with  a  kind  look,  for  he  watched  her  until 
she  was  out  of  sight.  She  turned  a  corner,  and  he 
went  back  to  his  mother,  finding  her  in  a  dangerous 
mood,  though  he  did  not  know  it. 

He  had  caught  snatches  of  the  afternoon's  dialogue, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  a  very  natural  thing  that  some- 
body with  a  good  face  and  sweet  voice  should  come 
and  urge  his  mother  to  behave  better.  He  himself 
had  often  reflected  that  she  could  be  much  gentler 
tempered,  and  therefore  in  his  simplicity,  he  went 
this  day  directly  to  her  and  inquired  if  she  meant 
to  be  as  good  as  the  lady  wanted  her  to  become. 
She  answered  by  gripping  him  firmly,  a  hand  on 
each  shoulder,  her  eyes  near  enough  to  glare  the 
words  again  into  his  memory. 

"You  say,  Sister  Ursula  knew  there  was  a  pur- 
gatory, and  knew  people  who  were  in  it.  She  was 
right,  Guy.  I  said,  '#<?,'  because  I  hated  to  frighten 


THE  SPINSTER  SPEAKS  AGAIN— AND  AGNES.   221 

you;  but  now  I  tell  you  it  is  true,  and  the  very  hot- 
test part  of  it  is  for  children  who  tell  tales  of  what 
they  hear  and  know  after  they  are  forbidden.  If 
now,  you  should  talk  about  me  to  other  people,  and 
answer  their  questions,  the  devil  would  roast  you  a 
hundred  thousand  years,  and  in  all  that  time  I  never 
would  pay  one  penny  to  get  you  out  of  the  fire,  be- 
cause I  have  warned  you  well  beforehand." 

The  terror-smitten  child  was  just  equal  to  one 
effort  of  reason:  "You  won't  be  alive  so  long  your- 
self." 

"  So  much  the  worse.  If  I  died,  and  the  masses 
were  not  said,  nobody  else  would  ever  pay  or  pray 
for  you.  Will  you  tell  now  ? " 

"  Tell  what  ?  "  he  faltered. 

" Anything— you  little  fool!" 

Agnes  went  home  very  melancholy,  and  much 
disgusted.  She  had  failed.  Could  Mrs.  Melton  have 
meant  to  hint  that  Rushmore  had  ever  made  Agnes 
love  him.  Would  he  from  vanity  reveal  what  in 
honor  he  ought  not  to  know;  or  was  it  only  of  her- 
self that  Mrs.  Melton  thought.  Had  he  courted 
her,  swerved  off  to  Annie,  now  in  a  reaction  was 
turning  again  to  her  ?  If  that  were  true,  how  fickle 
and  pitiably  weak  he  must  always  have  been.  Such 
women  as  Agnes,  can  be  patient  with  one  betrayed 


222  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

into  sudden  sin;  but  what  turns  their  moral  buoy- 
ancy into  a  sickening  heaviness  of  spirit  is,  to  find 
their  great  man  collapsing  into  a  dawdler.  To 
realize  that  they  have  been  offering  incense  before  a 
shrine  that  never  held  anything  half  as  holy  as  their 
own  faith  in  its  supposititious  treasures. 

She  was  sorry  that  Mrs.  Irving  saw  her  pass  the 
gate  that  evening,  and  called  to  her  to  come  in  a 
moment. 

"  Well,  what  success  did  you  have  ?  "  asked  the 
lady. 

"  Not  any.  Mrs.  Melton  is  very  deep  or  very 
shallow,  and  I  myself  am  not  bright  enough  to  tell 
which  she  is.  She  did  not  care  for  anything  I 
told  her.  She  denied  nothing,  acknowledged  noth- 
ing, promised  nothing." 

"  Do  you  think  she  has  any  purpose  to  carry  out  ?" 

"  Perhaps  that  which  she  herself  tells  in  plain 
words  to  people  is  true,  and  she  could  stand  by  it 
if  made  to  do  so — then  she  may  only  hint  at  what 
has  given  rise  to  all  this  gossip,  and  intend  that 
trouble  between  Mr.  Rushmore  and  Annie  shall 
be  the  outcome  of  it,  in  which  case  she  may  bring 
him  more  under  her  influence." 

"Very  likely;  but  we  cannot  judge  of  that  until 
we  know  the  facts."  Agnes  was  glad  that  Mrs.  Ir- 
ving was  not  one  given  to  "talking  things  over" 


THE  SPINSTER  SPEAKS  AGAIN— AND  AGNES.   223 

endlessly,  for  she  had  no  heart  to  discuss  the  mat- 
ter. As  she  walked  down  the  straight  path  through 
the  front  yard,  she  encountered  old  Pelcg-  with  a 
watering-pot. 

"  Know  the  little  Papist  yet,  Agnes — the  widow 
Melton's  boy  ? " 

"  I  have  seen  him  once." 

"  He  is  a  rare  one;  you  must  catch  and  proselyte 
him.  She  has  a  good  conscience — that  widow  has, 
I've  no  doubt  of  it." 

"  I  am  glad." 

"Oh  yes — good  as  new;  you  see  she  never  has 
used  it  common.  I  know  that  from  what  the  little 
chap  says.  Get  him  to  come  and  see  you;  he  is 
very  homesick." 

Agnes  made  a  brief  reply  and  hastened  homeward 
to  think  of  the  afternoon's  interview  long  and  ear- 
nestly, but  her  thoughts  were  all  the  time  turning 
to  questions  that  she  could  not  answer.  Perhaps,  as 
her  father  said,  she  knew  nothing  of  the  "  world," 
if  that  were  true,  and  the  world  was  full  of  women 
like  Mrs.  Melton,  she  was  glad  to  be  ignorant. 
Worst  of  all,  Mrs.  Melton  declared  that  she  under- 
stood Agnes's  whilom  hero  better  than  Agnes  her- 
self ever  had  known  him. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Questions  Not   to   be  Answered  at  Once. 


rT^HE  day  after  Agnes's  interview  with  Mrs. 
-*•  Melton,  she  was  greatly  cheered  by  a  visit 
from  Annie  and  Rushmore.  Annie  was  brimming 
over  with  gayety  and  happiness,  while  her  lover 
showed  his  pride  and  affection  in  many  quiet,  but 
unmistakable  demonstrations.  They  were  the  mer- 
riest guests  who  had  visited  the  parsonage  for  a  long 
time,  and  Agnes  catching  something  of  their  light- 
heartedness,  regained  much  of  her  previous  confi- 
dence in  this  man  whom  yesterday  she  dreaded  to 
remember  had  been  her  friend.  During  the  even- 
ing, Rushmore  mentioned  that  he  was  to  be  absent 
from  town  a  few  days,  having  business  in  Boston. 
Agnes  silently  taking  note,  promised  later,  to  spend 
a  day  soon  with  Annie. 

It  came  to  be,  what  Mr.  Hathaway  considered  a 
late  hour,  before  the  joyful  young  couple  took  their 
departure.  Agnes  stood  in  the  starlight  at  the 


QUESTIONS  NOT  TO  BE  ANSWERED  AT  ONCE.    225 

door,  listening  to  their  voices,  as  they  went  up  the 
hill;  but  when  she  returned  to  the  light,  her  face 
was  as  sweet  and  calm  as  Romano's  girlish  Mary's; 
under  whose  picture  she  sat,  while  her  father  read 
the  evening  Scriptures. 

A  few  days  after  the  visit  mentioned,  Agnes  made 
arrangements  to  accept  Annie's  invitation,  and 
started  out  one  lovely  morning  toward  the  heights. 
When  about  halfway  up,  she  met  Miss  Eunice  look- 
ing as  crisp  and  gay  as  the  first  bright-tinted  Au- 
tumn leaves  over  which  she  was  so  lightly  tripping. 

"  We  hastened  out  just  after  breakfast,"  she  ex- 
claimed, "but  we  separated  an  hour  ago.  We  went 
to  the  dressmaker's  first.  How  I  do  hate  that  sort 
of  thing.  I  wish  I  had  been  made  like  a  cherub,  on 
a  tombstone,  with  just  a  head  and  a  pair  of  wings. 
It  would  save  so  many  clothes,  to  say  nothing  of 
fatigue  and  indigestion.  Well,  I  left  Annie  at 
Madame  Velknor's,  and  she  was  to  hurry  home, 
lest  you  should  come  and  find  her  absent.  I  was 
sure  you  would  not  get  there  before  ten,"  and  chat- 
ting like  a  lively  girl,  Miss  Lathrop  led  the  way  un- 
til they  reached  the  heights.  Annie  was  already 
home,  and  greeted  Agnes  more  affectionately  than 
usual,  if  that  were  possible  ;  but  Agnes  soon  de- 
tected a  preoccupation  in  her  manner,  and  when 
Miss  Eunice  suddenly  pulled  back  a  heavy  curtain, 


226  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

both  ladies  noticed,  with  some  alarm,  how  colorless 
was  Annie's  face. 

"  Are  you  ill  ? "  cried  Miss  Eunice.  "  Why,  you  are 
as  white  as  my  handkerchief!" 

"  I  am  tired.  I  walked  a  long  way,"  she  answered; 
quickly  turning  the  conversation;  nevertheless  Ag- 
nes was  very  sure  something  more  than  mere  fatigue 
affected  her,  and  Miss  Eunice  tried  to  relieve  her  of 
her  duty  as  hostess,  by  being  herself  as  entertaining 
as  possible.  At  lunch-time  Annie's  efforts  to  appear 
like  herself  became  so  evident  that  Miss  Eunice  said 
as  they  all  rose  up  from  the  table:  "I  know  your 
head  must  ache,  Annie !  Now  Agnes  is  coming 
with  me  to  the  garden,  and  we  want  you  to  go  and 
rest  a  few  minutes.  I  never  saw  you  so  white." 

Somewhat  to  Miss  Lathrop's  surprise,  she  acqui- 
esced, and  the  two  ladies  spent  a  pleasant  hour  to- 
gether; by  tacit  consent,  omitting  any  comment  on 
Annie's  depression  of  spirits. 

They  had  returned  to  the  parlor  when  she  ap- 
peared again.  She  did  not  seem  to  hear  Miss 
Eunice's  question  about  her  headache,  but  she 
came  and  stood  near  them,  in  a  strangely  dignified 
way.  Her  blue  eyes  were  very  bright,  and  her 
voice  constrained  as  she  said:  "  I  am  glad  you  are 
here  together  to-day;  for  I  want  you  to  explain 
something  to  me.  One  or  both  of  you  may  be  able 


QUESTIONS  NOT  TO  BE  ANSWERED  AT  ONCE.   227 

to  do  it.  I  must  be  enlightened  at  once.  This 
morning  when  Miss  Lathrop  left  me  at  the  dress- 
maker's, I  waited  half  an  hour  for  something 
Madame  Velknor  was  finishing.  Her  sewing  wo- 
men were  in  the  next  room  and  I  heard  them  talk. 
They  were  saying  the  strangest  things  of  Mr.  Rush- 
more  and  Mrs.  Melton;  what  does  it  mean  ?" 

Neither  Agnes  nor  Miss  Eunice  could  answer  a 
word  in  the  moment  she  gave  them. 

"  I  first  thought  I  would  not  speak  of  it  to  a  hu- 
man being,  if  I  could  find  out  the  truth  for  myself; 
but'  I  will  not  condescend  to  become  a  spy.  If 
things  like  these  are  said,  you  must  have  an  idea 
from  what  they  come.  I  trust  you  both.  I  would 
ask  Mr,  Rushmore  himself,  but  just  now  it  seems  to 
me  that  I  should  be  insulting  him  if  these  are  false 
reports — if  they  are  true,  I  would  not  lower  myself 
to  talk  them  over  with  him.  This  is  what  I  over- 
heard— " 

Her  cheeks  were  crimson,  as  she  rehearsed  the 
most  distorted  story  that  either  of  her  listeners  had 
yet  heard.  They  could  promptly  declare  it  must 
be  malicious  gossip;  but  they  soon  found  they  had 
not  to  deal  with  a  confiding  girl,  ready  to  be  soothed 
into  full  faith  at  one  effort  of  theirs;  but  with  an 
indignant  woman,  who  Would  insist  upon  knowing 
from  what  fire,  and  how  and  when  kindled,  all  this 


228  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

smoke  proceeded.  What  had  they  ever  heard  ? 
What  did  they  think  ?  She  would  know  all,  and 
know  it  at  once.  Agnes  had  over  and  over  again 
asked  herself  the  very  questions  Annie  put.  She 
had  also  striven  earnestly  to  eliminate  from  her 
doubts  everything  favorable  to  Rushmore;  she  was 
therefore  wise  and  on  the  whole  reassuring  in  all  she 
said;  but  Miss  Eunice  was  demoralized.  She  sympa- 
thized too  deeply  with  Annie,  detested  Mrs.  Melton 
too  heartily,  and  had  been  all  along  too  much  be- 
wildered about  Rushmore,  not  to  say  many  hasty 
things  which  revealed  her  own  secret  suspicions.  She 
alternately  regretted  that  the  widow  could  not  be  sent 
to  the  state-prison  for  her  undefined  offences,  and 
lamented  in  general  terms  man's  inconstancy. 

This  last  was  altogether  too  much  for  Annie's 
pride,  and  Agnes  was  sorry  to  find  her  getting 
very  hard,  angry,  and  into  a  frame  of  mind  that  did 
not  argue  well  for  the  future.  She  touched  Miss 
Eunice's  slipper  and  said:  "You  don't  know  all 
about  an  American  town,  Annie,  or  how  people  in 
one  can  gossip.  There  may  be  nothing  behind  this, 
and  you  must  not  condemn  any  one  on  the  strength 
of  gossip  among  a  few  lowbred  women.  Get  over 
your  excitement  before  you  see  Mr.  Rushmore;  don't 
be  sarcastic  or  vague  or  unreasonable.  Let  him 
have  a  chance  to  stand  or  fall  by  the  plain  truth." 


QUESTIONS  NOT  TO  BE  ANSWERED  AT  ONCE.   229 

"  Yes,  Annie,  trust  Agnes;  she  is  cool,  and  she 
has  known  him  a  long  time,"  put  in  Miss  Eunice, 
coming  to  her  wits. 

"  You  have  always  believed  in  him,  have  you  not  ?" 
cried  Annie,  softening  suddenly.  "  He  was  your 
friend,  so  you  must  have  thought  him  good  and 
honorable." 

There  was  perfect  safety  for  Agnes's  conscience 
in  the  past  tense;  so  she  could  answer  warmly: 
"Certainly;  I  believed  him  all  that  and  much  more. 
I  was  proud  to  have  him  for  a  friend." 

Annie  slipped  down  by  her  side,  put  her  head  on 
her  shoulder,  and  began  to  cry  like  a  little  girl. 
The  spinster  at  that  was  about  to  go  off  again  like 
a  rocket,  and  scatter  no  end  of  fiery  sparks;  but 
Agnes,  smoothing  Annie's  silky  hair,  shook  her  fin- 
ger at  Miss  Eunice,  and  during  the  remainder  of 
the  day  that  lady  tried  to  act  as  judiciously  as  was 
possible  in  her  excited  state  of  mind.  At  the  door 
that  night,  when  Agnes  went  home,  Miss  Lathrop 
whispered:  "I  am  very,  very  sorry  for  her;  but  if 
there  must  be  any  sort  of  a  fracas — why  it  is  better  ( 
now  than  later." 

In  the  next  two  or  three  days  were  many  seasons  • 
of  struggle  for  Annie.     She  did  not  speak  again  to  • 
Miss  Eunice  on  the  matter  that  plainly  occupied  her 
whole  mind;  but  every  hour  found  her  prompted  to 


230  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

some  action  other  than  that  decided  upon  the  hour 
before.  Self-respect  and  a  sense  of  what  was  due 
to  Rushmore,  forbade  her  asking  more  of  any  out- 
sider than  she  had  already  asked,  but  she  was  afraid 
for  herself  if  she  trusted  herself  in  his  presence. 
Either  she  would  let  slip  all  her  indignation  and 
leave  unsolved  questions  that  now  tormented  her; 
perhaps  giving  him  her  full  trust  again  if  he  were 
tender  and  grieved,  or  else  she  might,  making  him 
angry,  get  angry  herself;  thus  destroying  their  peace 
and  bringing  about  no  explanation  of  the  mysteries. 
She  resolved  at  last  to  write  to  Rushmore  before 
their  next  meeting,  and  the  composition  of  the  let- 
ter resulting  from  this  decision  was  no  easy  matter; 
but  written  it  was,  the  very  day  in  which  he  returned 
to  Waldenton. 

Rushmore  coming  into  town  about  noon  was 
greatly  tempted  to  call  upon  Annie  before  going 
to  his  office,  but  after  a  moment  of  wavering  he 
thought  it  best  to  defer  that  pleasure  until  evening. 
When  once  more  in  his  office,  he  found  new  docu- 
ments and  many  letters  awaiting  him.  As  he  seated 
himself  at  his  desk  prepared  for  a  few  hours  of  steady 
work  a  faint,  a  delicately  suggestive,  perfume  reached 
him.  Yes,  they  were  there  !  A  great  bunch  of  An- 
nie's favorite  pansies,  and  underneath  them  the  first 
long  letter  he  had  ever  received  from  his  betrothed. 


QUESTIONS  NO7^  TO  BE  ANSWERED  A  T  ONCE.    23  l 

The  office-boy  coolly  pointed  them  out  after  the 
discovery,  saying,  "  A  coachman  fetched  'em;"  but 
Rushmore  did  not  heed  him,  fre  was  rapidly  cutting 
the  envelope.  As  a  lawyer  he  was  accustomed  to 
startling  revelations;  but  no  remarkable  affidavits, 
duly  sworn  to,  had  ever  given  him  the  mental 
shaking  up,  of  a  sudden,  accomplished  by  this 
womanly,  gentle,  far-searching  letter  of  Annie's. 
It  was  in  a  manner  stern,  yet  not  too  stern  for  one 
who  believed  she  was  offering 

"  Innocence  for  innocence, 
Who  knew  not  the  doctrine  of  ill-doing, 
No,  nor  dreamed  that  any  did;  " 

yet  one  who  demanded  he  should 

"  Answer  boldly,  '  Not  guilty.'  " 

"  Bless  her,  she  is  an  angel  of  truthfulness  her- 
self, or  she  would  not  write  her  meaning  so  nobly," 
exclaimed  Rushmore.  "  If  she  had  been  a  silent, 
jealous  soul,  what  a  bottomless  pit  we  might  have 
tumbled  into;"  then  outwardly  calm,  he  deliberated 
a  few  moments  before  he  wrote  a  brief  note,  and 
calling  the  boy,  enjoined  it  upon  him  to  take  it  to 
Miss  Leigh  with  all  speed. 

This  note  was  not  explicit;  but  if  Rushmore  had 
followed  it,  he  would  have  seen  a  white-cheeked 
young  girl  grow  rosy  and  radiant  after  its  perusal. 


232  EUNICE    LATffKOP,    SPINSTER. 

The  rosiness  may  have  been  due  to  an  exceedingly 
tender  preface  and  an  excessively  loving  supple- 
ment, but  the  radiancy  was  entirely  owing  to  its 
middle  contents. 

" You  should  have  been  a  lawyer,  Annie; 

but  failing  of  that,  you  will  have  to  marry  one,  and 
become  his  legal  better  half.  You  can  put  very  di- 
rect questions.  Mrs.  Melton  and  I  can  answer  them, 
every  one  of  them.  Waldenton  gossips  are  '  fear- 
fully and  wonderfully  made.'  I  might,  with  the  illit- 
erate preacher,  omit  the  vowel  and  say  '  mad.'  I 
will  see  Mrs.  Melton  in  order  to  tell  her  the  trouble 
they  have  caused  you,  as  well  as  to  request  her  to 
meet  me  at  your  house  this  evening.  You  must 
cross-question  us  sharply.  It  is  a  most  abominable 
little  comedy  of  errors;  but  I  fail  to  see  in  it  any  of 
the  elements  of  a  tragedy." 

After  sending  Annie  the  note,  Rushmore  sat  a 
long  time  in  deep  thought,  which  evidently  grew 
more  and  more  unpleasant.  He  reread  word  by 
word  Annie's  letter  before  he  arose  and,  pushing 
back  his  chair  impatiently,  paced  back  and  forth 
through  the  length  of  the  room.  His  first  impres- 
sion had  been  merely  intense  annoyance  at  the  evi- 
dent effect  of  the  gossip  on  Annie's  mind,  while  at 
the  same  time  he  would  not  have  been  a  lawyer,  if 
he  had  not  perceived  that  this  gossip  must  have 


QUESTIONS  NOT  TO  BE  ANSWERED  AT  ONCE.    233 

started  from  Mrs.  Melton  herself.  She  must  have 
been  chattering  everywhere  in  a  most  childish  way 
about  his  kindness  to  her;  for  she  was  truly  one  of 
the  clinging,  emotional  kind  of  woman.  Was  she  ? 
The  longer  he  reflected  on  that  matter  the  more  evi- 
dent became  something  that  seemed  like  duplicity 
on  the  widow's  part.  He  had  supposed  that  Miss 
Leigh  knew  the  reason  of  all  these  simple  matters; 
namely,  the  kindnesses  shown  Mrs.  Melton  just  on 
account  of  his  friendship  with  her  patrons.  He  saw 
now,  that,  on  the  contrary,  Mrs.  Melton,  by  her  own 
insinuations,  her  half  admissions,  her  evasions,  her 
refusals  to  explain  what  might  have  been  at  once 
made  clear,  had  placed  him  in  a  worse  light  than 
she  could  possibly  have  done  by  direct  charges 
against  him,  charges  which  he  would  have  found 
more  tangible  and  easier  to  contradict.  He  was 
astonished  at  his  own  blindness  and  folly. 

"  Idiot ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Fool  that  I  have  been  ! 
The  dupe  of  a  pretty-faced  impostor  !  Fooled  by 
her  soft,  pleading  ways,  her  piteous  stories,  and  her 
crocodile  tears.  It  is  incredible  that  I  could  have 
been  caught  in  such  a  flimsy  net  !  And  I  called 
myself  a  man — prided  myself  on  being  a  shrewd 
lawyer !  Why,  I  ought  to  have  a  guardian  ap- 
pointed over  me  as  being  of  weak  mind  !  " 

It  did  not  render  him  less  savage  to  reflect  on  the 


234  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

absurdity  of  his  position.  He  must  demonstrate  in 
the  presence  of  the  lady  to  whom  he  was  engaged, 
that  he  was  not  and  never  had  been  engaged  to 
Mrs.  Melton.  She  must  know  the  real  amount  of 
influence  exerted  in  order  to  induce  the  widow  to 
leave  England;  he  must  revise  Mrs.  Cudlip's  free  ver- 
sion of  that  long  past  weak-tea  dialogue,  must — pa- 
tience failed  him.  His  intention  when  writing  to 
Annie  had  been  to  see  the  widow  in  the  early  even- 
ing, and  to  accompany  her  to  the  Leigh  mansion,  in 
order  that  she  should  give  an  account  of  their  ac- 
quaintance since  its  first  inception,  and  of  all  their 
business  relations.  He  was  now  in  such  a  fever  of 
excitement,  that,  early  in  the  afternoon  as  it  was, 
he  seized  his  hat,  locked  the  door  of  his  office, 
and  walked  rapidly  toward  Mrs.  Melton's  dwelling- 
place. 

Mrs.  Melton  had  no  idea  of  holding- any  secret  or 
important  conclaves  in  her  apartments,  that  she  en- 
joined so  emphatically  upon  her  son  the  duty  of  si- 
lence. It  was  merely  that  she  had  a  strong  and  ex- 
cusable desire  to  be  herself,  to  act  and  talk  freely  in 
her  own  castle;  moreover,  she  wished  to  be  her  own 
interpreter,  or  to  be  entirely  unintelligible. 

Guy  soon  fell  into  place,  that  is,  he  slept  in  the 
bed  she  provided,  and  he  ate  the  food  she  gave  him. 


QUESTIONS  NOT  TO  BE  ANSWERED  A  T  ONCR.    235 

On  the  rare  occasions,  when  he  staid  all  day  at  home, 
he  was  so  quiet  that  she  forgot  his  presence.  He 
never,  after  the  first  week,  talked  to  her  freely.  At 
the  time  the  widow  went  to  housekeeping,  Miss  Leigh 
had  given  her  an  old,  but  still  gorgeous,  Chinese 
screen,  in  three  folding  parts;  with  this,  she  shut  off 
a  corner  of  her  largest  room,  and  there  gave  Guy 
his  few  playthings.  That  which  pleased  him  best, 
was  a  box  of  colors,  pencils  and  paper.  He  had  a 
fantastic  sort  of  talent  for  sketching  after  the  fashion 
of  Blake,  and  for  one  realistic  pig,  he  made  scores 
of  cherubim,  seraphim  and  quite  unclassified  crea- 
tures of  his  own  brain.  Sometimes,  he  stopped  work, 
and,  peering  through  the  aperture,  where  a  fine  silk 
mandarin  had  been  gnawed  out  by  a  rat,  he  would 
watch  his  mother,  in  long  mute  meditation.  She 
was  more  mysterious  to  him  than  even  the  Griffin, 
on  whose  nature  and  habits  no  one  had  ever  given 
him  any  satisfaction.  However,  the  hours  Guy  spent 
at  home  bore  no  proper  proportio'n  to  those  spent  in 
old  Peleg  Irving's  garden,  and  later  at  the  parson- 
age. He  revelled  in  flowers,  and  could  be  trusted 
not  to  meddle  prematurely  with  fruit.  So  he  came 
and  went  as  he  liked. 

One  Sunday,  about  fifthly  of  the  Reverend  Bela's 
sermon,  the  church  door  swung  softly  in,  and  the 
sleepily  solemn  congregation  was  amazed  to  see  a 


236  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

small  figure,  in  knee-breeches,  proceed  gravely  up  the 
central  aisle,  and  bow,  apparently  to  the  preacher, 
cross  himself  devoutly,  then,  after  kneeling  a  second, 
demurely  sidle  into  a  seat  by  John  Irving.  At  in- 
tervals, during  the  discourse,  he  indulged  in  these 
j  genuflections  so  unusual  in  Presbyterian  circles,  and 
thereby  Peleg  Irving  was  greatly  edified.  The  old 
man  waited  after  church,  and  taking  Guy  by  the 
hand,  led  him  to  Agnes  for  encouragement.  She 
let  him  go  home  with  her  to  dinner,  in  the  hope  of 
making  him  happier,  if  he  were,  as  Peleg  said,  very 
lonely.  In  the  afternoon,  the  minister  put  him  in 
the  study  window-seat,  and  with  ominous  headshak- 
ing  and  many  sighs,  explored  the  dark  recesses  of 
his  mind.  At  last  he  went  for  the  Shorter  Cate- 
chism, and  earnestly  besought  Agnes  to  teach  it  to 
him,  with  full  and  free  explanations  thereof.  From 
that  day  his  education  was  resumed.  Agnes  taught 
him  a  little  at  a  time,  and  wreathed  her  theology  with 
many  a  poetic  allegory  or  parable,  while  she  held 
her  school  in  the  porch,  with  an  outlook  to  the 
sunny  hills,  and  often  had  cakes  and  candy.  Guy 
made  rapid  progress  in  loving  her.  It  was  only 
when  the  Rev.  Bela  tried  to  mark  that  progress  by 
the  pages  of  the  Primer  gone  over,  that  dismay  took 
hold  upon  the  boy,  and  he  vainly  tried  to  pit  Sister 
Ursula  against  the  Westminster  divines. 


QUESTIONS  NOT  TO  BE  ANSWERED  AT  ONCE.    237 

Mrs.  Melton  did  not  concern  herself  about  his 
friends  or  his  pursuits.  She  was  troubled  on  her 
own  account  lest  she  had  been  a  little  too  precipi- 
tate. Her  whispers,  her  half  confidences  had  been 
caught  up  sooner  than  she  had  supposed  they  would 
be;  she  was  not  going  to  have  time  enough  to  get 
her  wild  little  scheme  into  working  order,  perhaps. 
She  proposed  to  make  that  which  was  true  seem 
to  cover  (small  as  it  was)  ground  whereon  Annie 
and  Rushmore  might  meet  and  clash,  while  she  her- 
self, if  challenged,  could  forsake  all  untenable  points 
by  declaring  that  she  was  not  responsible  for  false- 
hoods told  about  her. 

It  was  a  noteworthy  fact  that  while  Agnes  and 
Annie  had  recognized  every  noble  and  strong  trait 
that  did  exist  in  Rushmore's  character,  this  woman, 
whose  moral  nature  was  keyed  so  much  lower  than 
theirs, — she  knew  the  whole  man  better  than  either 
Agnes  or  Annie  could  know  him.  Not  a  weakness 
in  him  had  escaped  her;  she  detected  his  spiritual 
laziness.  She  believed,  if  a  woman  seemed  deter- 
mined to  love  him,  when  she  knew  it  would  avail 
her  nothing  that  he  would  say  to  himself,  it  was 
none  of  his  concern.  She  might  admire,  and  pet, 
and  flatter  him,  and  if  she  did  it  in  a  pretty  and  not 
immodest  way,  he  would  rather  enjoy  it,  certainly 
would  not  put  a  stop  to  it  peremptorily.  With 


238  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

this  conviction  Mrs.  Melton  had  proceeded  hitherto. 
What  had  she  gained  ?  A  point  to  stand  on,  while 
she  used  her  lever,  that  first.  Later  ?  Well  she  had 
moved,  not  a  world,  but  a  man's  vanity;  and  stirring 
that,  she  believed  motion  might  in  time  be  commu- 
nicated to  many  another  passion.  She  argued,  that 
if  he  were  ever  at  odds  with  Annie,  no  one  could 
console  him  or  sooner  reconcile  him  to  his  self-com- 
placency than  she  herself  could.  After  that  ?  Well, 
a  big  prey  may  be  taken  by  a  small  spider,  if  the 
captive  has  all  along  been  as  indolent  as  the  spinner 
has  been  active.  After  mischief,  Mrs.  Melton  meant 
matrimony.  If  she  could  have  accomplished  this 
last  without  gossip,  and  a  betrayal  of  friendship,  she 
would  have  preferred  to  have  done  so;  but  this  was 
impossible.  She  knew  that  Annie  was  younger,  far 
more  beautiful  and  rich;  perhaps  she  herself  would 
merely  make  a  fool  of  herself;  but  in  case  of  failure, 
she  had  only  to  put  the  ocean  between  herself  and 
Waldenton.  She  had  often  succeeded  in  enterprises 
quite  as  venturesome  as  this.  If  she  needed  any  in- 
citement beyond  her  love  of  ease,  her  ambition,  and 
inherent  trickery,  it  was  abundantly  furnished  in  the 
fact,  that  as  it  was  in  her  to  love,  she  loved  Julian 
Rushmore. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

Sunlight  Darkened. 

r~T1HE  day  on  which  Julian  Rushmore  returned 
•*•  to  Waldenton,  was  one  of  rarest  autumnal 
beauty.  Little  Guy  Melton  determined  to  make  it 
a  holiday  in  some  peculiarly  pleasant  way,  and  in 
pursuance  of  this  idea,  he  resolved  to  take  Mrs.  Sally 
McGerkin  into  his  confidence.  About  ten  in  the 
morning  therefore,  he  put  in  order  his  Httle  den  be- 
hind the  screen,  adjusting  this  last  so  that  it- would 
conceal  the  bedroom  door,  thus  making  the  parlor 
seem  more  genteel  and  secluded,  as  his  mother  had 
carefully  explained.  Then  he  flitted  through  that 
bedroom,  sprang  lightly  out  of  the  window  to  Mrs. 
McGerkin's  woodshed,  spun  down  a  sort  of  lattice 
and  landed  in  her  lettuce  bed.  The  season  for  let- 
tuce was  long  past,  and  Mrs.  McGerkin  rather  fa- 
vored this  mode  of  exit,  although  to-day,  as  she  sat 
in  the  kitchen  door  paring  apples,  she  cried  out : 


\ 

240  EUNICE    LATHKOP,    SPINSTER. 

"That's  unnatural  for  anything  but  a  monkey;  you'll 
participate  yourself  down,  once  too  often  sometime, 
and  crack  your  cerebellum  !  Howsomever,  it  does 
keep  you  from  clattering  them  little  heels  needlessly 
over  my  poor  stair-carpet,  and  leavin'  all  my  doors 
open  for  flies  to  rave  and  dirt  to  fly.  Where  are  you 
going  ? " 

"  If  you  were  me,  would  you  stay  at  home  and 
make  a  ladder  up  the  side  of  that  shed,  or  would  you 
go  somewhere  ? " 

"  I'd  go  somewheres,"  she  promptly  replied. 

"  Would  you  go  to  Uncle  Peleg's  ?  " 

"  Uncle  Peleg's  !  Just  hear  him  now  !  Well  with 
such  a  many  new  relation,  what'd  you  say  to  a  bran- 
new  step-father  ?  I'm  told  there's  one  in  the 
market." 

"  I  never  go  to  market." 

"Law  now!"  laughed  Sally,  tossing  an  apple  into 
her  tin  pan.  "  You  leave  that  to  your  mar.  Yes,  I 
should  say  you  better  run  right  off  and  stay  till  sun- 
down, then  you  won't  track  the  oilcloth  I'm  going  to 
mop  after  dinner." 

"  What  makes  you  work  in  the  afternoon  ?  " 

"  Because  I'm  excentric,  the  neighbors  say.  Is 
that  Irving  house  handsome  inside  ?  I've  heard  tell 
she  was  a  queer  stick  and  mighty  unsociable." 

"Who?" 


SUNLIGHT  DARKENED.  2\l 

"  Mrs.  Peleg — but  don't  you  run  and  tell  her  I  said 
so.  What  is  your  mother  doing  ?  I  scasely  had  one 
peep  at  her  yesterday." 

Guy  had  his  own  reasons  for  never  gratifying 
McGerkin's  curiosity;  but  it  had  the  noble  peculi- 
arity of  virtue  itself,  and  flourished  without  any  re- 
ward. He  merely  remarked  in  a  resentful  way: 
"  Mrs.  Irving  is  beautiful,  so  is  her  house,  and  so  is 
Uncle  Peleg." 

"  Did  I  ever  hear  the  beat  of  old  Peleg  Irving's 
beauty !  Now  do  try  this  time  and  remember  what 
you  have  for  dinner;  when  I  know  just  what  vittles 
folks  eat  every  day,  I  seem  to  understand  'urn 
better." 

Much  impressed  by  this  philosophical  proposition, 
Guy  would  have  lingered  to  discuss  it,  but  Sally's 
kettle  boiled  over,  and  she  left  him  to  go  his  way, 
which  he  did,  wondering  if  he  had  better  make  a 
brief  call  at  the  parsonage.  He  decided  not  to  do 
so,  a  little  later,  when  he  saw  Agnes  go  out  of  the 
gate,  as  if  for  a  walk.  He  did  not  greatly  enjoy  the 
minister's  society.  Indeed  he  feared  he  was  in  a  bad 
way, — perhaps  he  was  one  of  Sister  Ursula's  here- 
tics. He  contradicted  what  Uncle  Peleg  heard  glad- 
ly, and  Agnes  received  in  silence.  Guy,  remembering 
how  Saint  Bruno  was  scared  into  accepting  truth  by 
a  voice  from  the  dead,  hung  on  the  gate  this  morn- 


242  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

ing,  and  pondered  a  deep  plot  for  the  Reverend 
Bela's  conversion.  He  might  hide  in  the  yard  some 
night  and  exhort  him  from  the  tombs;  but  in  broad 
daylight  this  did  not  seem  a  sufficiently  blood-curd- 
ling proceeding,  and  Guy  reluctantly  gave  it  up, 
jumped  down  off  the  gate  and  went  on  to  the  Irving 
cottage.  He  was  received  with  great  kindness,  and 
invited  to  stay  all  day,  but  for  the  first  time,  since 
he  had  made  Peleg's  acquaintance,  he  proved  to  be 
something  of  a  trouble.  He  was  exceedingly  rest- 
less, now  in  the  house,  now  in  the  garden, — he  asked 
questions,  tired  of  all  his  old  diversions,  and  greatly 
perplexed  quiet  Mrs.  Irving.  About  dinner-time  she 
discovered  that  he  was  "feverish  and  had  no  appe- 
tite." Peleg,  who  added  to  his  taste  for  theology  a 
penchant  for  administering  medicine,  Peleg  dosed 
him  with  a  very  high  "  attenuation  "  of  something  or 
other  which  he  solemnly  avowed  was  "indicated" 
(his  hobby  being  just  then  homeopathy),  and  after 
that  he  advised  Guy  to  go  and  take  a  nap  in  the 
garden  hammock. 

Not  long  after  dinner,  Agnes  Hathaway  came  into 
the  cottage,  and  Mrs.  Irving  fell  to  talking  of  the 
child. 

"I  fear,"  she  said,  "that  he  is  threatened  with  a 
more  severe  illness  than  Peleg  apprehends.  Guy 
says  his  mother  does  not  think  our  climate  agrees 


SUNLIGHT  DARKENED.  243 

with  him.  I  know  from  what  he  tells  me  that  she 
lets  him  do  all  sorts  of  imprudent  things." 

Agnes  was  about  to  speak  when  the  door-bell 
rang,  and  a  moment  after  Miss  Lathrop  entered  the 
"  sitting  room,"  brisk  and  smiling. 

"I  ran  down,"  she  explained,  "just  to  see  the  ex- 
quisite foliage  on  the  maple-trees.  The  main  avenue 
from  our  street  down  to  the  middle-town,  is  as  gor- 
geous as  if  it  were  hung  with  brilliant  banners." 

"Take  off  your  hat  and  stay  with  us,  Eunice. 
Agnes  can  spend  the  afternoon  I  am  very  sure," 
suggested  Mrs.  Irving. 

"Oh  no,  thank  you.  I  only  dropped  in  for  a  chat. 
Don't  let  me  interrupt  you  now,"  returned  the 
lady. 

"Excuse  me  one  moment,  and  then  I  will  be  ready 
to  visit  with  you.  I  have  left  some  cake  in  the 
oven,"  said  Mrs.  Irving. 

Agnes,  sitting  by  the  window,  listened  to  the 
sprightly  visitor,  who,  discovering  in  her  pocket  a 
crochet-needle  thrust  into  a  ball  of  cotton,  began 
forthwith  to  improve  her  time  and  produce  a  new 
tidy. 

"Is  that  Guy  Melton  out  there  singing  in  the  gar- 
den ?  How  much  time  he  spends  here  !  Oh,  by  the 
way,  Agnes,  Mr.  Rushmore  has  returned  from  Bos- 
ton, and  just  before  I  came  out,  Annie  had  a  note 


244  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

from  him;  he  satisfied  her  that  he  could  clear  up 
everything  in  a  twinkle,  and  she  is  happy  as  a  bird. 
He  didn't  say  '  in  a  twinkle,'  but  he  was  not  the 
least  bit  exercised  in  his  mind,  that  was  evident." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad.  I — "  Agnes  did  not  finish  her 
sentence,  for  Mrs.  Irving  came  back  with  her  work- 
basket  and  drew  Miss  Eunice  into  a  culinary  dis- 
cussion. 

The  three  women  sat  together  a  long  time.  Ag- 
nes never  forgot  the  first  peaceful  hours  of  that 
afternoon  and  how  often  she  looked  away  to  the 
wondrously  tinted  forests  on  the  hillside,  and  the 
middle  distance  full  of  a  luminous  golden  haze. 
Miss  Eunice,  who  had  drawn  nearer  another  window 
for  light  on  her  tidy,  as  she  looked  out  remarked, 
"  There  comes  John  down  the  street  !  Isn't  it  early 
for  him  ?  How  fast  he  walks  !  " 

"  Very  early,"  said  Mrs.  Irving.  "  I  hope  nothing 
has  happened  !  Maybe  his  father — "  She  waited, 
aware  that  her  alarm  might  be  foolish,  although 
John  was  plainly  excited,  for  he  quickened  his  pace 
to  a  run,  then  slackened  it,  as  if  his  hurry  were  need- 
less, but  involuntary. 

His  mother  had  the  door  open,  and  as  soon  as  he 
came  near  enough  to  hear  her  she  cried,  "  What  is 
it,  my  son  ?  Is  it  your  father  ?  " 

"No,    no,    mother;    nothing   ails    father,"  he   re- 


SUNLIGHT   DARKENED.  245 

turned,  with  an  effort  to  calm  himself;  but  pushing 
by  her  into  the  room  where  Agnes  sat  with  Miss 
Lathrop,  he  just  glanced  at  them  as  they  in  turn 
cried,  "Oh,  what  is  it?" 

His  face  was  white,  his  voice  terribly  agitated. 
"  Haven't  you  heard  the  cry  of  murder  in  the 
streets  ? " 

"Oh!     Whose?     Where,  John  ?     Where?" 

"  Julian  Rushmore  has  shot  Mrs.  Melton  dead!" 

"No  !  No  !  What  can  you  mean  ?  "  shrieked  the 
women. 

"  Yes,  it  is  too  horrible  to  think  of;  but  I  must  be- 
lieve my  own  eyes  !  I  have  just  seen  her  lifeless 
body  on  the  floor  of  her  room  !  " 

"Ok,  but  he  could  not  have  done  it /"  cried  Agnes. 

"  She  fell  at  his  feet.     I  saw  him  as  he  stoo — " 

A  side  door  from  the  garden  was  pushed  in,  and 
Guy  Melton,  gasping  and  livid,  tottered  over  the 
threshold,  but  no  farther,  collapsing  into  a  limp  lit- 
tle heap. 

"  Who  could  be  so  cruel  as  to  tell  him?  Some- 
body has,"  wept  Miss  Eunice,  wringing  both  hands. 

John  lifted  the  child  to  a  sofa,  and  Mrs.  Irving, 
mechanically  rubbing  the  little  hands  and  face,  still 
implored  John  to  make  them  understand  what  was 
simple  enough,  but  was  at  the  same  time  too  awful 
to  realize. 


246  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

"  There  can  be  no  mistake — Rushmore  must  have 
killed  her;  but  God  grant  it  was  not  murder  !  " 

Agnes,  standing  motionless  heretofore,  fell  into  a 
chair  at  that  word,  and  John  seeing  her,  sprang  away 
to  bring  water. 

"  The  child — give  it  to  him,  and  go  on.  I  shall 
not  faint,"  she  stammered. 

Voices  were  heard  in  the  porch,  neighbors  came 
flocking  in  exclaiming  in  horror-stricken  tones, 
"John  Irving  knows  !  He  can  tell.  Was  it  mur- 
der, or  only  an  accident  ?" 

"  Murder — of  course  it  was  murder,"  cried  some- 
body in  the  rear,  outside  the  door.  "Why,  didn't 
the  housekeeper  see  it,  and  rush  screaming  from  the 
very  spot  into  the  streets  ? " 

"  No.  I  heard  she  was  not  there,  but  knew  he 
was." 

"  Why,  I  tell  you  the  sheriff  himself  might  have 
heard  Sally  McGerkin  yell  murder.  It  fairly  froze 
my  marrow." 

Clamoring  around  John,  they  crowded  into  the  room 
as  if  it  were  a  public  place  and  poor  John  could  tell 
them  at  once  the  story  and  the  motive  of  the  horrid 
deed.  He  spoke  out  loudly:  "  I  cannot  tell  you  any 
more  than  you  already  know,  unless  it  is  this,  that  I 
heard  Rushmore  say, '  You  do  not  suppose  that  I  sJiot 
her!'  If  the  housekeeper  saw  him  do  it,  why  he 


SUNLIGHT   DARKENED.  247 

meant  that  he  had  no  intention  of  murder,  but  fired 
by  accident." 

Peleg  Irving  arrived  at  that,  and  for  once  was 
perfectly  silent  in  a  time  of  great  commotion;  he 
listened  only  a  moment  to  the  people  still  swarm- 
ing in,  then  he  bent  over  Guy,  who  was  regaining 
consciousness,  but  who  seemed  exceedingly  stupid. 
He  aroused  himself  a  little  at  old  Peleg's  very  tender 
touch  and  voice,  allowed  him  to  carry  him  into  the 
bedroom,  and  answered  a  few  of  the  old  man's  ques- 
tions. Mrs.  Irving,  who  followed  them,  returned  to 
the  people  in  a  short  time  and  plainly  explained  to 
them  that  the  child  must  have  overheard  a  passer-by 
say  that  Mrs.  Melton  was  dead — killed  suddenly;  and 
being  always  nervous  and  excitable — being,  in  fact, 
already  ill,  the  shock  had  been  too  great  for  him. 
"  Peleg  says,"  she  added,  "  that  everything  more 
shocking  can  be  kept  from  him  for  the  present  time. 
We  will  keep  him  with  us;  and  unless  I  am  greatly 
mistaken,  he  is  going  to  be  a  very  sick  child." 

"  Horrible,  horrible  thing-in  every  aspect,"  groaned 
Mr.  Hathaway,  who,  with  clasped  hands,  was  braced 
against  a  bookcase  unable  to  do  anything  but  pon- 
der on  Rushmore's  awful  depravity.  He  had  himself 
many  a  time  called  the  young  man  unregenerate 
and  worldly — but  a  murderer  !  He  thought  of  his 
former  fears  for  Agnes,  then  of  the  other  fair  young 


248  EUNICE    LATHKOP,    SPINSTER. 

girl  so  lately  betrothed  to  Rushmore,  and  turning 
to  Miss  Eunice,  he  whispered:  "Miss  Leigh — poor 
child  !  " 

Eunice  stared  at  him  as  if  he  were  a  spectre.  In 
the  last  ten  minutes,  she  had  forgotten  the  events  of 
the  past,  and  the  duties  of  the  future — had  actually 
forgotten  Annie.  Now,  appalled,  she  cried  out: 
"  How  could  I !  "  and  not  stopping  for  bonnet  or 
shawl,  she  hurried  up  the  hill,  her  trembling  limbs 
scarcely  able  to  carry  her. 

John  Irving  was  trying  to  escape  from  the  crowd 
of  neighbors,  who  could  not  be  made  to  believe  that 
he  had  made  the  most  of  what  he  had  witnessed, 
when  Agnes,  putting  her  hand  on  his  arm,  mur- 
mured: "  I  want  to  speak  to  you — do  come  into  an- 
other room,  if  you  can." 

He  made  his  way  through  the  group  quickly  after 
that,  and  followed  Agnes  into  the  library. 

"  Oh,  John,"  she  asked  almost  entreatingly.  "  Do 
you  believe  that  he  could  have  murdered  her  !  I  can- 
not believe  it — or  even  conceive  of  his  doing  such  a 
thing  !  " 

"I  have  no  belief!  My  own  thoughts  are  only 
wild  questions." 

"  Have  you  doubted  Mr.  Rushmore  in  the  past,  or 
ever  thought  that  he  might  be  such  a  bad  man  ? " 

It  was  not  a  time  to  be  punctilious.     John  only 


SUNLIGHT   DARKENED.  249 

hesitated  a  moment  before  he  replied:  "  I  was  once 
overmastered  by  jealousy  of  Rushmore — he  was  so 
often  at  the  parsonage,  so  while  I  overrated  his  nat- 
ural abilities  perhaps,  I  was  savagely  alert  to  detect 
any  moral  weaknesses,  and  I  came  to  think  him 
fickle — it  may  be,  a  little  insincere.  But,  as  I  say, 
my  scrutiny  was  pitiless.  If  he  had  not  looked  at 
you,  Agnes,  I  might  have  thought  him  everything 
that—" 

"  But  can  you  now  think  of  him  as  capable  of  this 
— no  matter  under  what  circumstances  —  of  mur- 
der•?"  and  hardly  conscious  of  what  she  did,  she 
held  fast  John's  hand. 

"  I  will  cling  to  a  belief  in  his  innocence  as  long 
as  I  can;  but  I  did  not  tell  that  wild  crowd  out  there 
some  suspici —  Agnes,"  he  asked,  "do  you  love  that 
man  ? " — and  he  never  after  ceased  to  wonder  that 
he  dared  to  utter  the  question;  but  if  she  did  love 
Rushmore,  that  seemed  to  him  the  crudest  thing 
of  all. 

She  was  not  any  longer  faint,  nor  in  this  time  of 
truth-telling,  afraid  or  ashamed,  because  she  trusted 
John  above  all  others,  without  being  aware  of  the 
fact:  so  to  his  startling  question,  she  replied,  "I 
could  not  think  too  highly  of  him  once.  I  thought 
I  knew  him;  but  I — I  do  not  love  him  !  " 

John  caught  her  in  his  arms,  holding  her  fast  just 


2 50  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

one  second — long  enough  to  say:  "You  are  safe — 
or  it  would  have  killed  you  !  Rushmore  has  been  a. 
fool — or  worse  !  The  outlook  is  black  for  him  !  " 

Agnes  freed  herself  quickly;  John  was  evidently 
lover-excited.  "What  is  the  worst — if  there  can  be 
I  anything  more  dreadful  ?" 

"  I  mean  the  interpretation  that  must  now  be  put 
on  matters  already  afloat  as  gossip,  and  I  fear — but 
we  must  hope,  pray,  and  wait." 

"  Poor  Annie  !     How  will  she  endure  all  this  ?" 

"  God  pity  her,"  said  John,  earnestly.  "  Go  home 
now,  dear  Agnes  !  Don't  stay  to  listen  to  the  hor- 
rible talk,  no  one  knows  anything  accurately,  or  can 
know,  until  after  the  inquest." 

The  warmth  of  John  Irving's  manner  was  intense, 
and  almost  involuntary.  Agnes,  needing  a  friend 
was  sincerely  glad  she  had  him,  and  did  not  in  this 
strange  time  reason  on  her  emotions  in  any  way. 

"  Yes,  I  must  go  home.  I  cannot  stand  more  ex- 
citement needlessly — Annie,  could  I — No  !  In  her 
place  I  could  not  endure  words,  I  will  not  go  to  her 
yet." 

They  could  hear  the  footsteps  of  the  people,  and 
their  vehement  voices  as  they  began  to  leave  the 
house.  Mrs.  Irving  came  calling  John,  and  Mr. 
Hathaway  was  troubled  to  know  what  had  become 
of  his  daughter.  In  a  short  time  the  outer  aspect 


SUNLIGHT    DARKENED.  251 

of  all  things  was  as  before,  about  the  cottage;  but 
when  Agnes  stepped  out  into  the  soft  October  sun- 
shine, she  was  shivering  with  cold  and  horror.  She 
saw  nothing  fair  or  beautiful,  and  shuddered  in  a 
quick  recoil  as  once  her  foot  fell  on  a  vivid  red  leaf 
— dropped  like  a  blood-splash  on  the  stone.  She 
thought  of  nothing  save  the  scene  just  now  in  that 
old  house  behind  the  dismal  evergreens — of  how  this 
tender  sunset  light  must  fall  on  the  dead  woman 
there — on  the  strange,  bright  eyes  glazed  now — the 
beautiful  soft  hands  quite  cold  by  this  time.  She 
imagined  the  rough  crowd  trying  to  crowd  into  the 
pretty  rooms,  and  stare  curiously  at  this  one,  perhaps 
never  seen  in  life — that  life  which  was  itself  all  a 
mystery  to  the  most  pitiful  stranger.  And  Julian 
Rushmore  was  being  called  a  murderer  by  people 
walking  these  streets  of  Waldenton,  the  genial  fas- 
cinating friend  who  at  this  very  sunset  hour  used  to 
steal  into  the  solemn  old  church,  and  evoke  melo- 
dies that  lingered  like  sweet  echoes  long  in  her 
memory  ! 


CHAPTER    XX. 
The  Inquest. 

T7T7*ITHIN  a  half  hour  after  the  occurrence  at 
*  *  Mrs.  McGerkin's,  the  usually  unfrequented 
street  before  her  house  was  thronged  with  curious 
men,  women,  and  children.  They  were  promptly 
prevented  from  crowding  into  the  house;  but  they 
lingered  without,  gazing  at  the  upper  windows,  see- 
ing nothing  but  the  muslin  curtains  of  Mrs.  Melton's 
room,  as  they  fluttered  in  the  evening  wind.  The 
coroner's  inquest  was  held  at  the  earliest  feasible 
moment,  that  a  sufficient  number  of  "good  and  law- 
ful men  of  the  county"  could  be  summoned  to  ap- 
pear, and  "  make  inquisition  how,  and  after  what 
manner,"  Mrs.  Elsie  Melton  came  to  her  death.  The 
housekeeper,  John  Irving,  a  surgeon,  and  two  or 
three  other  persons  of  the  number,  who  hurried  into 
the  house  after  the  fatal  shot,  were  subpoenaed  as 
witnesses.  Mrs.  Sally  McGerkin  was  at  all  times  a 
very  excitable  woman;  but  now,  as  she  rushed  re- 


THE    INQUEST.  253 

peatedly  up  the  back  stairs  and  down  the  front  ones, 
with  quivering  nostrils  and  disordered  hair,  it  seemed 
doubtful  if  she  could  be  caught  and  kept  still  long 
enough  to  collect  her  .scattered  wits;  but  Coroner 
Tewitt  was  no  man  to  be  trifled  with.  Making  one 
dash  after  her,  he  captured  and  shook  her  vigorously, 
then  as  she  was  undeniably  calmed  by  that  process, 
he  held  her  fast  while  he  thundered,  "  Go  up  now 
into  that  room  and  stay  there ! " 

The  repetition  of  her  terrible  story,  every  time 
told  in  a  loud  screech,  had  so  weakened  Sally,  that 
she  meekly  obeyed  him,  as  if  he  had  put  an  end  to 
some  painful  duty  previously  laid  upon  her,  instead 
of  which,  he  was  sternly  calling  her  to  new  action, 
haranguing  her  all  the  way  up  the  stairs: 

"  Go  along  there  and  tell  the  whole  truth  in  the 
presence  of  the  dead !  Take  care  you  tell  all  you 
know;  but  mind  you  don't  tell  a  great  deal  more 
than  you  know,  women  always  want  to  do  that ! 
See  to  it !  Mrs.  Pickles,  see  to  it ! " 

Awed  at  the  coroner's  savage  tones,  amazed  at 
the  cognomen,  he  in  his  natural  haste  and  excite- 
ment, evolved  out  of  the  Gerkin  half  of  her  name, 
Sally  squeezed  herself  into  the  room,  which,  much 
to  the  wrath  of  her  companion,  was  already  quite 
full  of  spectators.  Half  of  them  were  summarily  dis- 
missed. The  oaths  were  administered  to  the  jurors 


254  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

now  assembled,  and  the  surgeon  arose  from  his  ex- 
amination of  the  body  of  Mrs.  Melton,  stretched 
where  she  fell,  not  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  but 
near  the  chimney  and  mantel-piece,  not  far  from  a 
sofa,  and  directly  opposite  the  bedroom  door.  Be- 
ing a  pompous  old  gentleman,  who  wished  to  speak 
with  due  authority,  he  waited  until  the  room  was 
very  quiet  before  he  said,  "Gentlemen,  I  find  after 
thorough  examination,  the  cause  of  death  to  be  a 
pistol  shot.  The  ball  entered  the  right  frontal  bone 
near  the  median  line,  as  I  am  convinced.  It  took  an 
oblique  course  downward,  afterwards  becoming  em- 
bedded in  the  medulla  oblongata,  breaking  up  its 
lateral  tracts  or  the  intermediary  fasciculi.  You 
perceive  that  I  extracted  the  ball  posteriorly,  so  to 
speak.  Death  must  have  been  instantaneous — that 
is,  death  in  the  common  acceptation  of  the  term.  In 
point  of  fact,  gentlemen,  the  medulla  oblongata  is 
the  vase  which  holds  the  vital  essence." 

The  coroner,  certain  he  would  not  understand  his 
answers,  asked  the  surgeon  no  more  questions  than 
were  necessary. 

The  pistol  had  been  found  on  the  carpet  near  the 
body.  It  was  a  small  silver-mounted  weapon,  with 
nothing  peculiar  about  its  workmanship,  and  it  was 
evidently  an  old  one. 

Mrs.  McGerkin  was  the  first  person  examined,  and 


THE    INQUEST.  255 

she  plainly  struggled  to  state  things  accurately; 
nevertheless,  she  was  possessed  with  the  idea  that 
she  had  almost  seen  a  murder,  and  had  this  been  a 
calmly  conducted  trial,  instead  of  an  inquest  held 
while  everybody  was  strung  up  to  a  high  pitch  of 
suspicion,  curiosity  and  horror,  much  of  Sally  Mc- 
Gerkin's  spontaneity  would  have  been  repressed. 
She  insisted  first  on  explaining  that  she  was  of 
Scotch-Irish  parentage,  born  on  the  high  seas  and 
bred  in  Massachusetts;  but  the  coroner  quickly  dis- 
abused her  of  the  idea  that  she  was  dictating  her 
autobiography,  and  then  her  story  ran  after  this 
fashion:  "This  is  the  day  I  mostly  always  take  fur 
jobs  o'  cleaning,  and  I  do  'um  of  an  afternoon,  when 
my  reg'lar  down-stair  work  is  done.  I  scrub  off 
finger-marks  on  paint,  and  shine  doorknobs.  Well, 
in  so  doing,  I  have  seen  Mrs.  Melton  several  times 
to-day,  so  lively  and  chipper  that  no  torture,  thumb- 
screws nor  disquisitions  can  make  me  say  I'd  believe 
she  was  a  meditatin'  suicide." 

"  Nobody  asked  you  to  say  so,  Sarah  Pickles  ! 
Get  right  at  facts,  as  fast  as  you  can,"  roared  Cor- 
oner Jewitt. 

"  If  you  go  to  browbeatin'  of  me  an'  a-running  me 
with  sour  names  like  Pickles,  when  I'm  Sally  McGer- 
kin,  as  everybo — " 

"Go  on!"  he  roared  still  louder.  "Answer  my 
last  question  !  " 


256  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  in  here  sinct  noon,  and  I  did 
not  see  no  pistol.  I  never  seen  none,  never  did 
heerd  her  say  she  owned  none,  neither.  So  now!" 

"  Will  you  go  on,  Jarkins  ?  " 

"  I  was  at  my  front  door  mat,  which  being  chained, 
I  undoes  and  lifts  up  to  whack  it  agin  the  side  rail 
by  the  doorsteps,  when  Mr.  Rushmore  opens  our 
gate." 

"  What  time  was  it  ?  " 

"  Nigh  onto  four,  and  likely  enuff  more,  fur  Amos 
Cobb  had  just  driv'  away  with  his  milk  cart  from  my 
back  lane,  and  Amos  generally  strikes  this  end  o' 
the  town  at  presizzly  four  by  the  Braddock  Street 
Baptist  clock." 

"What  next,  Susan  Jerking?" 

"  Wall,  next  Mr.  Rushmore,  he  passes  compli- 
ments, sez,  '  Madam,  is  Mrs.  Melton  to  home, 
madam,'  and  I  saying,  'She  is,  sir;  and  go  up,  cer- 
tingly,'  he  passes  of  me,  proceeding  for  to  rap  with 
his  knuckles  onto  her  parlor  door,  and  I  observe 
not  a  mortal  thing  more  for  full  five  minutes,  as  you 
might  say — as  you  might  say,"  she  repeated,  with  a 
sort  of  jerk  up,  as  if  just  here  she  would  leave  a 
hiatus  in  her  narrative. 

"  Mrs.  Gorquins,  will  you  go  on  and  come  to  some- 
thing before  the  crack  of  doom  !  " 

"  I've  often  had  a  little  partucal  of  curiosity  about 


THE    INQUEST.  257 

her  (Mrs.  Melton,  you  know),  and  when  it  so  was 
to-day  that  her  doorknob  being  uncommon  dull 
come  next  in  course — I  goes  to  scour — it — up — sir, 
and  mebbe  lingered  a  bit." 

"What  did  you  see  through  the  keyhole,  Susan?" 

"  Nothin'  sir;  the  key  filled  it;  but  there  was  a 
vig'rous  conversation  a-progressin'.  Mr.  Rushmore 
was  a-persistin'  onto  something,  and  Mrs.  Mel- 
ton was  a-persistin'  onto  something  else,  contrary- 
wise.  He  insists,  '  You  must  deny  it,  you've  got  now 
to  say  it  is  not  so,  and  are  you  willing  to  do  it.' 
Evidently  she  warrit,  though  her  voice  being  nat- 
urally low,  I  lost  half  and  didn't  ketch  the  rest;  so 
I'd  rather  not  swear  to  wot  I  neither  heerd  nor 
sawr,  tho'  I'm  perfectly  certain  jes\  ^vhat  'twas.  But 
positively  I  heerd  him  roar  out  softly  onct,  "No  ver- 
mifuges will  avail  you,  madam  !  No  vermifuges  !  " 
then  there  was  something  o'  ruther  about  duplicity, 
and  I  heerd  Mrs.  Melton  say  as  how  she  was  a  help- 
less, innercent-minded  woman.  Then  there  was  very 
considerable  talk  about  an  engagement,  her'n  to  him, 
no  doubt;  and  Rushmore  said  if  she  wouldn't,  she 
must  take  the  consequences,  and — and — " 

"And  what  then,  Mrs.  Joking  ?  " 

"  Then  I  continuin'  a-polishin'  on  that  doorknob, 
which  I  hopes  I  have  a  right  to  be  doin'  in  simpli- 
city in  my  own  house,  when  Mrs.  Melton  she  opens 


258  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

the  door  suddently,  which  she  had  no  call  to  do, 
save  bein'  naturally  suspicious  of  folk  like  me,  so 
that  I  fell  in'ards,  e'enemost  on  my  nose,  sir;  and 
she  says  very  shortly,  '  That'll  do  for  to-day,  and 
you  can  be  excuged.'  " 

"Now,  Sarah  Jerking,  stop!  Do  you  swear  that 
this  woman,  now  dead,  and  this  man,"  pointing  to 
Rushmore,  "  were  discussing  something — were  at 
variance  ? " 

"  They  was  that,  sir." 

"You  say  one  was  refusing  something  you  call 
vermifuge;  are  you  aware,  madam,  of  the  nature  of 
vermifuge  and  of  its  application  ?  Silence! "  yelled 
the  irate  coroner,  as  somebody  tittered.  "  This  is 
no  time  for  levity." 

"  I  swear  to  the  fuges.  I  know  it  was  a  fuge,  and 
several  of  them,  fur  that  matter." 

"  Were  they  not  subterfuges  ? " 

"  Mebbe  they  wor." 

"After  that,  madam?" 

"  The  kitchen  after  that,  sir.  I  removes  my  old 
slips  and  returns  stocking  footed;  for  if  I  lets  apart- 
ments to  single  ladies,  I  allows  nothing  derogatory 
about  'um,  and  it  is  dooty  to  see  there  ain't.  I  crept 
half  way  back  agin,  was  midway  on  the  staircase, 
when  there  come  an  explosion  loud  enough  to  take 
the  ridge  pole  off  the  roof  with  one  puff.  I  give  a 


THE    INQUEST.  259 

great  screech  and  flew  up'ards.  I  bust  into  this 
room,  which  has  always  been  her  best  one,  and, 
heaving  preserve  us  !  there  she  was  dead  at  that 
man's  feet — dead  as  we  see  her  now;  leastwise  so 
I've  no  doubt,  though  I  just  took  to  my  heels,  wild- 
ly a-hollering  bloody  murder,  which  brought  most 
all  these  folks  together  at  onct." 

Mrs.  McGerkin  being  further  questioned,  declared 
that  Mrs.  Melton  had  often  hinted  that  she  was  to 
marry  Mr.  Rushmore;  that  at  other  times  she  had 
insinuated  that  he  was  very  fickle,  and  perhaps  he 
would  give  her  up  for  some  wealthy  woman  with  a 
position  in  the  world.  She  had  declared  she  could 
hold  him  securely  when  the  right  time  came.  Mrs. 
McGerkin  was  sure  the  quarrel  of  to-day  was  on  this 
very  point. 

John  Irving,  having  been  the  second  person  to 
enter  Mrs.  Melton's  parlor  after  the  catastrophe  was 
called  on  to  give  his  testimony. 

He  was  returning  home  that  afternoon  much  ear- 
lier than  usual,  and  when  he  reached  the  corner  of 
the  street  near  Mrs.  McGerkin's  house,  he  was 
startled,  not  by  the  pistol  shot,  which  he  did  not 
heed,  but  by  the  woman,  who,  rushing  into  the 
street,  cried  in  the  full  strength  of  her  voice  :  "  Mur- 
der !  Murder !  Mr.  Rushmore  has  murdered  Mrs. 
Melton  ! " 


26o  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

He  ran  into  the  house,  up  the  stairs,  and  all  the 
doors  being  open,  rushed  directly  into  this  room. 
He  saw,  on  entering,  Mrs.  Melton  stretched  on  the 
floor,  and  Mr.  Rushmore  kneeling  by  her  side  with 
his  hand  supporting  her  head,  but  he  seemed  dazed 
and  was  only  staring  into  her  face  with  his  own  al- 
most as  white — blood  was  oozing  from  a  small 
wound  on  her  forehead.  Mr.  Irving  said  he  went 
near,  pushed  Mr.  Rushmore  a  little  aside,  and  felt 
for  the  stricken  woman's  pulse,  but  could  detect 
none.  He  must  have  exclaimed,  "She  is  dead,"  for 
Rushmore  grasped  his  arm,  groaning:  "Dead!  You 
do  not  think  she  can  be  dead  ! "  Then  the  room 
filled  rapidly,  and  people  began  to  shake  Rushmore, 
who  rising  up,  stood  stupefied,  not  once  replying 
when  they  cried,  "  How  was  it  ?  How  did  it  hap- 
pen? Did  you  kill  her?"  He  seemed  overcome 
with  horror,  seeing  nothing  but  the  wounded  wo- 
man's body. 

He,  John  Irving,  took  him  by  the  shoulder,  turn- 
ing him  away  from  that  sight  and  said,  "You  must 
think,  man,  now  of  yourself"  and  Rushmore  an- 
swered, "  What  can  I  do  ?  She  is  dead." 

Irving  advised  him  to  be  careful  then  to  say  noth- 
ing to  the  crowd,  and  simply  to  surrender  himself  to 
the  proper  authorities.  It  was  to  that  admonition 
quietly  given,  that  Rushmore  exclaimed,  "Why, 


THE    INQUEST.  261 

you  don't  suppose  /shot  her!"  and  Irving  had  only 
time  to  answer,  that  of  course  the  circumstances 
would  excite  suspicion,  when  the  coroner  arrived. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  necessary  formalities  of 
the  law,  it  was  supposed  that  Mrs.  McGerkin  had 
actually  seen  the  shooting  of  Mrs.  Melton,  when 
later  it  was  evident,  that  she  had  not  been  in  the 
room,  Rushmore's  own  version  of  the  occurrence  was 
duly  considered.  He  stated,  but  not  under  oath, 
that  he  had  called  to  see  Mrs.  Melton,  in  order  to 
discuss  a  certain  matter.  Was  he  in  the  habit  of 
calling  here  ?  No,  he  was  not.  What  was  the  mat- 
ter discussed  ?  It  related  to  some  business  affairs  in 
part — it  was  connected  with  some  things  of  a  per- 
sonal nature.  His  hesitation  was  so  marked  at  this 
point  as  to  produce  a  rather  unfavorable  influence  on 
the  judgment  of  his  listeners. 

Were  they  disagreeing  ?  They  were  not  quarrelling 
at  all;  but  they  were  talking  very  earnestly,  perhaps 
vehemently.  The  pistol  was  not  Rushmore's,  and 
he  had  never  seen  it  before  that  afternoon.  He  ex- 
plained, that  soon  after  entering  the  room,  he  no- 
ticed this  weapon  on  a  little  marble-topped  stand, 
just  one  side  of  the  high  old-fashioned  mantel-piece. 
He  went  nearer  it,  sitting  where  he  might  have 
touched  it,  but  he  did  not  do  so.  He  did  say  to 
Mrs.  Melton,  just  these  words:  "That  is  a  formid- 


262  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

able  trinket  for  a  lady,  and  a  very  unsafe  one.  If  it 
is  loaded,  you  run  a  foolish  risk  in  leaving  it  around 
like  this."  She  replied,  that  it  was  a  little  old  pistol 
she  brought  from  England,  that  once  she  had  been 
considered  a  splendid  shot,  and  that  now  she  felt 
safer  in  this  unprotected  house,  to  know  she  had 
such  a  weapon.  She  kept  it  loaded,  but  always  out 
of  the  reach  of  careless  hands.  To-day,  in  putting 
closets  and  drawers  to  rights,  she  left  it  for  the  mo- 
ment there.  He  said  they  forgot  it  entirely  in  the 
conversation  that  followed,  and  when  that  discus- 
sion became  exceedingly  animated,  they  arose  and 
talked  standing.  He  had  observed  often  before  that 
she  was  a  woman  whose  hands  were  always  in  mo- 
tion when  she  became  excited;  to-day  she  opened 
and  shut  a  book  on  the  stand  as  they  stood — she 
very  near  the  tall  mantel-piece.  Suddenly,  in  the 
middle  of  a  sentence  that  she  was  uttering  rapidly, 
he  saw  her  lift  the  pistol,  as  if  without  thought  she 
was  moved  to  put  it  on  the  upper  marble ;  she 
struck  it  sharply  against  the  mantel's  edge,  and 
must  then  have  cocked  it,  for  it  was  fired  almost 
in  his  own  face,  and  she  fell  without  a  groan. 

The  rest  of  the  testimony  taken  amounted  to  lit- 
tle or  nothing.  The  jurors  were  well  meaning  and 
extremely  thick-headed  men;  they  looked  at  Rush- 
more  and  saw,  as  it  so  happened,  a  gentleman,  per- 


THE    INQUEST.  263 

sonally  a  stranger  to  them.  They  pitied  him,  if  his 
story  were  true.  It  might  be  true.  They  regarded 
with  much  more  intense  interest  the  dead  woman's 
fair  face  and  motionless  form,  reflecting  perhaps, 
that  fairer  women  had  fallen  victims  to  gentlemanly 
villains. 

Had  Rushmore  claimed  that  in  this  stormy  inter- 
view which  was  probably  a  lover's  quarrel,  Mrs.  Mel- 
ton had  rashly  shot  herself  in  anger,  they  might  have 
believed  him  more  readily.  As  it  was,  they  were 
almost  guilty  of  the  absurdity  of  thinking  the  acci- 
dent he  described  too  inopportune  to  be  probable. 
They  therefore  deliberated  a  long  time  before  they 
could  agree  on  any  explicit  statement  of  their  opin- 
ions; but  at  last  the  verdict  was  delivered  to  Coro- 
ner Jewitt  that  "  Mrs.  Melton  came  to  her  death  by 
a  pistol  shot,  and  that  there  is  reasonable  cause  to 
suspect  that  Julian  Rushmore  fired  at  her  with  in- 
tent to  kill." 

As  soon  as  the  inquest  ended,  John  Irving  hurried 
for  a  moment  to  Rushmore's  side.  "  Cheer  up  !  "  he 
said.  "  It  is  a  terrible  occurrence;  but  you  will  come 
out  from  it  all  right !  I  know  you  feel  as  if  a  thunder- 
bolt had  struck  you  !  " 

Rushmore  staggered  and  caught  the  hand  John 
stretched  out  to  him:  "  Go  to  my  poor  father  !  "  he 
entreated.  "  Don't  let  the  rabble  kill  him  with  their 


264  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

senseless  stories.  He  has  gone  out  of  town,  I  believe 
to  Denton — and  Annie — /" 

"  Anything  I  can  do  for  either  of  them  shall  be 
done  at  once,"  returned  John,  who  would  have  added 
more,  had  he  been  permitted  so  to  do. 

The  darkness  had  quite  shut  down  over  Walden- 
ton,  when  just  at  the  hour  that  Julian  Rushmore 
usually  strolled  up  the  heights  to  the  aristocratic 
old  Leigh  mansion,  the  doors  of  the  county  jail 
clanged  behind  him.  And  when  for  the  first  time  in 
hours,  he  was  left  to  his  own  thoughts — not  to  think 
was  his  almost  overpowering  desire,  for  he  was  utterly 
worn  out.  As  he  recalled  his  noon  arrival  in  Wal- 
denton,  his  quiet  lunch  and  chat  with  his  father,  his 
plan  for  soon  seeing  his  gay,  golden-haired  Annie — 
that  noon  seemed  separated  from  this  night  by  a 
long  lapse  of  time.  He  stood  at  the  window  of  the 
plain  little  room  assigned  him,  looking  at  the  black 
tree-tops  slowly  waving  in  the  gray  evening,  at  the 
stars  over  them.  They  were  unreal;  he  was — insane 
perhaps.  Excitement  began  to  act  again  upon  his 
weariness  like  an  opiate,  and  he  went  back  to  the 
past  scenes  not  with  close  consecutive  thinking;  but 
almost  as  a  cool  spectator.  Such  trifling  impressions 
had  been  stamped  on  his  mind  along  with  those  that 
were  deepest !  The  tones  of  Sally  McGerkin's  voice 
had  all  throughout  the  inquest  recalled  the  shrill 


THE   JNQUEST.  265 

notes  of  an  old  parrot  he  often  heard  in  a  lane  be- 
hind his  office.  He  remembered  that  Sally  stood, 
all  that  time,  shoeless,  her  stockings  covered  with 
the  dust  of  the  street;  then  he  must  have  gazed 
most  intently  at  some  prominent  hangings,  embroi- 
dered with  yellow  marigolds,  for  in  that  very  moment 
they  seemed  to  be  everywhere  blossoming  out  of  the 
shadows  that  filled  this  room  in  which  he  was  a 
prisoner.  He  was  glad  he  could  shut  out,  for  a 
while,  one  horrible  picture  which  was  sure  to  come 
later:  the  woman  one  moment  full  of  life — the  next 
lying  dead  at  his  feet. 

Unable  to  stand  longer,  Rushmore  sank  into  the 
nearest  chair;  on  raising  his  hand  toward  his  head 
he  felt  something  cool  slip  through  his  fingers;  it 
was  one  of  Annie's  pansies  that  had  clung  to  his 
buttonhole.  At  the  thought  of  her,  John  Irving's 
words  returned  to  him  with  a  new  shock.  Yes,  the 
circumstances  were  very  peculiar,  and  would  excite 
the  worst  suspicions.  Annie  might  believe  she  could 
see  an  unwillingness  on  Mrs.  Melton's  part  to  relin- 
quish just  claims.  Poor  girl,  she  might  be  this  very 
moment  recoiling  in  horror  at  the  thought  of  her 
own  engagement  to  him.  He  was  like  a  person, 
who  in  a  hideous  dream — slips — slips,  then  seems  tof 
half  awake  to  fresher  terror,  not  knowing  whether 
it  is  in  dreaming  or  in  awakening  that  there  yawns 


266  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

a  gulf,  into  which  he  will  plunge  when  he  ceases  to 
slip.  At  his  calmest,  Rushmore  wished  devoutly 
that  none  knew  of  his  relations  to  Annie,  that  she 
might  not  have  to  endure  the  shame  of  hearing  her 
name  connected  with  his.  Oh,  if  he  had  only  gone 
to  her  before  he  had  seen  Mrs.  Melton;  then  learning 
the  simple  truth  from  him  and  believing  it,  Annie 
might  still  hold  her  faith  in  him;  but  now  Mrs.  Mel- 
ton's lips  were  closed  forever;  she  had  left  super- 
abundant mischief  behind  to  work  after  her;  while 
in  what  seemed  to  be  the  "  deep  damnation  of  her 
taking  off"  was  the  measure  of  the  disgrace  to  be 
meted  out  to  him. 

He  did  not  hear,  when  the  door  behind  him  opened 
softly;  but  he  saw  a  bright  light  suddenly  fill  the 
place,  and  turning  he  gave  a  cry  of  pleasure,  then 
as  quickly  restrained  himself,  waiting  breathless. 
His  father  had  entered  leading  Annie.  In  a  quiv- 
ering voice  the  old  man  exclaimed,  "  You  ought  to 
rest:  but  we  knew  you  could  not,  and  a  little  more 
or  less  excitement  does  not  signify."  Annie  shrunk 
back  a  step;  Rushmore's  sudden  and  perceptible  re- 
straint startled  her;  she  was  only  able,  with  much 
effort,  to  utter  the  words,  "  I  know  you  are  as  inno- 
cent of  crime  as  I  am;  but  if  you  have  ever  deceived 
me  in  any  way,  in  regard  to  that  poor  woman,  I 
want  to  know  it  now."  She  slipped  her  trembling 


^_. .-     THE    INQUEST.  267 

arm  from  his  father's,  adding  in  a  lower  tone,  "  I 
would  not  reproach  you  by  a  word,  but  it  would  end 
everything,  if  you  have  deceived  either  of  us." 

"  I  think,  Annie,  that  everything  between  us  had 
better  end  this  very  night !  There  is  a  black 
time  coming  for  me,  and  as  I  foresee,  for  all  those 
near  to  me.  If  you  are  quite  free,  standing  by  your- 
self, you  will  escape  much.  Am  I  not  right  in  say- 
ing this,  father  ? " 

"Perhaps  you  are,  Julian,"  returned  the  old  man, 
surprised  and  sadly.  The  rays  of  the  lamp  he  had 
brought  in,  revealing  in  his  wan  face  and  disordered 
white  hair,  the  effect  of  the  shock  he  had  received. 

At  Rushmore's  words,  dismay  filled  Annie's  own 
pale  face;  she  answered  in  alarm,  "Better  for  me! 
Do  you  mean  better  not  to  know  the  truth  f  Why, 
I  must  know  it !  How  can  I  act  or  choose,  if  I  do 
not  know." 

"  Poor  child  !  you  have  nothing  to  do  or  no  choice 
to  make,"  returned  Rushmore  tenderly.  "  It  is  with 
me  only  a  question  of  saving  you  a  little  of  what  you 
may  have  to  suffer.  Would  to  God  I  had  not  been 
in  such  haste  to  tell  you  how  I  loved  you,  then  you 
would  have  been  spared  all  this." 

"  Then  you  did  love  me,  and  not — " 

"  Love  you,  Annie  !  Why,  have  I  spent  my  breath 
in  vain  for  weeks  ?  I  have  never  told  you  any- 


268  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

thing  but  the  truth.  As  for  that  poor  woman 
gone,  Heaven  forbid  I  should  needlessly  blacken  her 
name;  but  she  must  have  been  very  weak,  very  fool- 
ish !  I  would  tell  you  standing  over  her  dead,  what 
I  hoped  she  herself  would  frankly  tell  you  to-night: 
[that  she  was  absolutely  nothing  to  me,  nor  was  I 
anything  to  her  save  the  merest  acquaintance,  and 
that  is  true  of  all  the  past  since  I  first  saw  her  face. 
Nevertheless  I  want  you — " 

He  never  ended  the  sentence,  for  Annie's  arm 
slipped  around  his  neck,  and  she  plainly  gave  him 
to  understand  that  it  took  two  persons  honorably 
to  break  an  engagement  like  theirs,  and  she  had  no 
idea  of  being  one  of  the  two.  For  the  next  few 
minutes  old  Mr.  Rushmore  played  a  divided  part, 
arguing  both  sides  of  the  question  at  issue,  by  turns 
weeping  and  brightening  up,  but  all  the  time  trem- 
bling with  emotion  and  weariness.  As  a  friend,  he 
showed  the  young  orphan  girl  how  she  might  in- 
deed escape  trouble  and  annoyance  by  explaining 
away  the  reports  of  her  previous  engagement,  and 
that  by  now  breaking  it  she  could  hereafter  truth- 
fully deny  its  existence.  As  Rushmore's  father,  he 
was  glad  that  she  indignantly  refused  to  take  such 
a  course,  declaring  that  it  would  work  harm- to  Rush- 
more  and  purchase  no  peace  for  her.  They  were 
proud  to  be  conquered,  when  she  inquired  of  Rush- 


THE    INQUEST.  269 

more.if,  she  being  his  wife,  he  would  ask  her  to  de- 
sert him;  but  he  added  firmly: 

"  If  I  believed  that  my  innocence  of  this  crime 
charged  could  not  be  made  clear  as  daylight,  I 
would  make  you  yield  to  me,  Annie;  as  it  is,  have 
you  thought  of  the  publicity  ?  " 

"If  ten  thousand  people  instead  often  must  know 
that  I  have  promised  to  marry  you,  let  them  know 
it;  as  for  the  rest,  in  my  life  there  is  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of;  it  is — " 

"  A  little  white  book  that  I  do  not  want  every- 
body to  be  reading.  Yet,  if  you  will  cling  to  a  man 
suspected  of  murder — " 

"  I  shall  cling  to  you!' 

"  My  child,"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  "  you  show 
your  mettle.  When  your  father  said,  '  I  will,'  peo- 
ple let  him  alone." 

After  a  little  time,  Rushmore,  with  evident  re- 
luctance to  recall  the  affair,  said,  "I  must  explain 
all  those  things  you  referred  to  in  your  note,  Annie, 
and  I  had  better  do  it  now,  that  father  may  under- 
stand any  rumors  that  come  to  him." 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  son  !  I  find  the  air  full  of  them  ! 
Why,  I  never  so  much  as  heard  that  woman's  name, 
save  and  except  on  the  evening  spent  at  Annie's." 

Rushmore  briefly  entered  into  all  due  explana- 
tions, calmly  touching  on  the  future  bearing  of  cer- 


270  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

tain  charges  in  relation  to  his  trial.  The  old.  gen- 
tleman exclaimed  at  last,  "  No  more  to-night  !  I 
am  faint  with  the  strain  on  body  and  mind.  How 
must  it  be  with  you,  my  poor  boy !" 

"  If  I  could  endure  all  that  part  of  the  trouble  that 
comes  on  you  and  Annie,  I  would  be  far  easier.  I 
hope  you  did  not  walk  here  ? " 

"  No;  the  carriage  is  waiting.  Try  and  sleep, 
Julian;  the  lawyers  tell  me  we  need  not  fear." 

"No;  and  we  know  lawyers  are  infallible,"  said 
Rushmore,  kissing  Annie  and  grasping  tightly  the 
old  man's  hand^s  be  r-vd,  "Good  night." 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

At  the  Bar. 

HHHE  golden  autumnal  days  had  departed,  rude 
•*•  winds  had  stripped  the  trees  of  their  brave 
attire,  and  the  first  snows  had  fallen  on  Mrs.  Mel- 
ton's grave.  Throughout  the  times  of  excitement, 
immediately  succeeding  her  death,  it  was  not  a  sub- 
ject of  regret  that  Guy  was  wholly  unable  to  enter 
into  matters  going  on  about  him.  A  long  protracted 
fever  reduced  his  bodily  strength,  while  much  of  the 
time,  his  mind  wandered,  and  if  he  talked  at  all,  it 
was  incoherently.  Mrs.  Irving  could  not  have  nursed 
her  own  child  more  tenderly  that  she  cared  for  this 
friendless  orphan;  old  Peleg  insisted  that  henceforth 
the  boy  was  his,  and  he  cared  not  for  any  Mrs.  Cud- 
lips,  or  rather  he  presumed  that  the  London  lady 
could  easily  be  perstiaded  to  relinquish  her  claims, 
in  case  she  should  make  any.  About  two  months 
went  by  before  the  old  man  had  any  good  reason  to 
believe  that  the  boy  would  live;  but  at  last  Guy  be- 


272  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

gan  to  gain  a  little  health  and  animation.  He  was 
able  to  talk  longer  at  a  time  when  Agnes  Hathaway 
came  to  cheer  him,  whereas  for  weeks  he  had  merely 
smiled  at  her,  or  held  her  hand  in  his  small  weak 
fingers.  She  left  him  one  evening,  after  a  short  visit, 
and  entering  the  parlor,  found  that  Miss  Lathrop  had 
arrived  there  before  her.  The  good  lady  contrived 
to  run  into  the  cottage  every  day,  in  order  to  talk 
with  John,  more  freely  than  she  could  speak  before 
Annie  on  the  one  topic  of  all  absorbing  interest. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  thankful  I  am  that  the 
trial  begins  to-morrow,"  she  was  saying,  as  Agnes 
came  in  the  door.  "Anything  almost  is  better  than 
this  suspense,  which  is  telling  cruelly  on  Annie,  al- 
though she  is  a  marvel  of  self-control.  She  assures 
me  she  has  no  fear  concerning  the  result  of  this  trial; 
but  she  has  scarcely  eaten  or  slept  since  that  awful 
afternoon.  I  am  very  grateful  to  you,  John,  that  you 
warned  me  to  get  the  papers  before  she  could  read 
them;  for  to-day  I  managed  to  keep  one  from  her 
that  would  have  distressed  her  greatly." 

"  I  am  surprised  !  "  returned  John,  "at  the  bitter- 
ness manifested  toward  Rushmore  in  middle-town, 
where  he  is  very  little  known,  and  the  spiteful  pub- 
lic feeling  in  the  lower-town,  where  he  is  wholly  un- 
known. His  friends  on  the  heights  firmly  believe  in 
his  innocence;  but  I  hear  no  end  of  sneers — of  hate- 


AT    THE    BAR.  273 

ful  talk  about  shielding  a  villain  because  he  happens 
to  be  an  aristocrat.  A  mob  of  the  lower-town  rab- 
ble collected  under  the  window  of  his  room  last 
night,  yelling  and  throwing  stones  until  forcibly 
dispersed." 

"Such  things  must  be  terrible  for  Annie,"  said 
Agnes;  "but  they  really  amount  to  nothing;  he  is 
not  to  stand  or  fall  by  the  folly  of  a  mob." 

"  Very  true,"  sighed  Peleg;  "  but  while  I  know  the 
poor  fellow  is  not  guilty,  I  can't  see  who  or  what  is 
going  to  clear  him,  when  the  little  evidence  there  is, 
all  seems  to  go  against  him.  Lawyers  are  half  spi- 
ders, half  magicians;  they  go  to  work  and  spin  webs 
out  of  their  very  inwards — they  call  their  cobwebs 
iron  cables,  and  lo,  they  seem  as  strong  !  Just  sup- 
pose, for  instance,  that  you  were  in  the  witness  box, 
Agnes,  and  that  Mrs.  McGerkin  had  told  the  oppos- 
ing counsel  that  you  once  had  an  interview  with 
Mrs.  Melton.  Now  you  are  Rushmore's  friend  and 
want  to  help  him;  but  my  wife  says,  that  if  you  were 
cross-questioned  sharply,  and  had  to  repeat  all  that 
Mrs.  Melton  said  on  that  occasion,  it  would  bear 
heavily  against  him." 

The  blank  dismay  in  Agnes's  face,  and  her  little 
cry  of  distress,  caused  John  to  talk  very  cheerfully, 
to  assure  both  ladies  that  his  father  was  entirely  too 
despondent. 


274  EUNICE    LATHKOP,    SPINSTER. 

"  Yes,  these  last  weeks  have  made  Annie  grow 
old  in  trouble,"  continued  Miss  Eunice,  after  a  pause. 
"  She  seems  like  a  woman — not  like  the  merry,  inex- 
perienced girl  I  found  in  Europe — and  speaking  of 
Europe  reminds  me  of  something  rather  startling. 
She  said  yesterday  that  she  had  not  begun  to  think 
of  a  wedding-day  when  this  horrible  thing  happened; 
but  now  old  Mr.  Rushmore  wishes  that  the  marriage 
may  take  place  quietly,  very  soon  after  Rushmore's 
release.  He  thinks  (and  perhaps  very  wisely)  that 
it  would  be  pleasant  for  them  to  go  to  California  for 
the  winter,  and  then,  by  the  time  they  return,  this 
trial  will  be  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  not  a  topic  on 
every  tongue." 

"  In  case  of  such  an  event,"  said  John,  smiling, 
"  perhaps  you,  Miss  Eunice,  would  return  to  that 
abode  of  bliss  from  which  I  tore  you  months  ago, 
and  sent  you  roaming  over  the  world." 

"  I  dare  say  I  should  build  a  fire  again  on  my  own 
hearthstone.  How  you  excited  me  that  night,  John 
Irving,  and  what  a  powerful  will  you  have ! " 

"  No — or  it  would  have  accomplished  more  than 
it  ever  has." 

Agnes,  who  was  still  pondering  old  Peleg's  words, 
now  rose  to  go  home. 

"  You  will  come  to  see  Guy  every  day,  won't  you  ? " 
asked  the  old  man. 


AT    THE    BAR.  275 

"  I  had  to  promise  him  I  would  come." 

"  What  will  you  talk  about  ?  " 

"  Of  nothing  to  alarm  him,  of  course.  Mrs.  Irv- 
ing says  she  does  not  think  he  ever  understood  that 
his  mother  was  dead — much  less  that  she  was  killed, 
and  the  doctor  says,  if  he  heard  it,  he  may  have  for- 
gotten, for  the  fever  was  coming  on  when  the  child 
was  so  restless  and  unlike  himself  all  day." 

"  I  knew  you  would  not  talk  of  that  to  him,  but — 
but — Agnes  the  whimsical  little  scamp  is  desper- 
ately pious;  no\y  because  he  can't  stand  on  his  head, 
or  very  steadily  on  his  legs,  he  may  be  getting  into 
some  '  want-to-be-an  angel ' — frame  of  mind.  I 
won't  have  it !  He  shan't  be  an  angel,  and  that's  the 
end  of  it." 

"Why,  you  are  a  perfect  old  tyrant,"  remarked 
Miss  Eunice,  blandly,  as  she  took  her  leave.  John 
accompanied  the  two  ladies  as  far  as  the  parsonage, 
where,  leaving  Agnes,  he  continued  the  rest  of  the 
way  up  the  hill,  alone  with  Miss  Eunice,  who  coolly 
resumed  the  thread  of  her  previous  discourse:  "I 
think  you  have  the  strong  will  I  spoke  of,  but  you 
say  you  don't  accomplish  all  that  you  could  desire, 
what  do  you  suppose  is  the  reason  ? " 

"  Circumstances,  no  control  and  so  forth,  Miss 
Eunice." 

"  Fiddlesticks !     You    never    played    '  snap    and 


276  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

catch  'um '  enough,  when  you  were  young  !  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  that  the  slow-going  people  who 
plan  and  reason  and  let  things  mature,  are  the  very 
ones  who  generally  fail." 

"  Indeed  !  Is  that  your  sincere  conviction  ?  " 
"  Yes,  it  is,"  insisted  the  spinster,  "  and  your  own 
father  agrees  with  me.  Only  last  Sunday  night, 
as  we  were  coming  home  from  church,  he  said  that 
'  patience  was  a  grand  virtue,  but  the  chap  who  ate 
a  big  watermelon  in  the  nice  moonlight,  got  what 
the  one  who  possessed  the  patience  and  waited, 
never  did  attain  or  enjoy." 

"  He  said  that  after  Mr.  Hathaway's  sermon  on 
covetousness  ?  The  venerable  sinner !  The  two  sin- 
ners, if  you  agreed  with  him  !" 

"  There  is  Agnes,"  continued  Miss  Eunice,  "she 
is  another  one  who  does  not  fly  off  at  a  tangent 
often  enough.  She  thinks  and  thinks  and  thinks. 
I  have  a  wild  little  project  in  my  head !  She  must 
be  shaken  out  of  that  monotonous  life  of  hers." 
"Are  you  ready  to  tell  what  your  plan  is?" 
"I  can  tell  you,  in  confidence  of  course.  If  An- 
nie marries  after  the  trial,  perhaps  I  will  not  go  at 
once  to  my  old  home.  I  want  another  peep  at  the 
world.  I  am  going  to  endeavor  to  make  Mr.  Hath- 
away see  that  Agnes  needs  a  change;  then,  with  her 
as  a  companion,  I  will  take  another  trip  somewhere." 


AT    THE    BAR.  277 

"  Poor  Mr.  Hathaway  cannot  be  left  alone." 
"Oh,  he  must  not  be  a  selfish  stick,  if  he  is  a  min- 
ister; he  could  board  at  your  house  and  write  at 
home.  Agnes  must  not  be  shut  up  so  closely,  now 
when  she  is  in  her  bloom  and  freshness,"  Miss  Eu- 
nice paused  before  she  added,  with  a  refinement  of 
malice  that  John  writhed  under  silently,  "All  old 
maids  are  matchmakers,  when  they  are  as  good- 
natured  as  I  am.  It  is  time  somebody  had  the  dear 
girl's  best  interest  at  heart,"  then  she  tripped  along 
over  the  frosty  stones  without  one  single  pang  of 
conscience,  knowing  her  "  project "  was  an  inspira- 
tion and — a  fib.  She  had  no  patience  with  John 
Irving;  if  he  loved  Agnes,  as  she  suspected  that  he 
had  all  "along  loved  her,  for  what  was  he  waiting  ? 
It  is  needless  to  add  that  John  did  not  give  her 
the  reasons  for  what  she  considered  his  lack  of  due 
energy,  but  he  pondered  her  words  even  amid  the 
stirring  events  of  the  coming  days,  wondering  much 
if  greater  boldness  would  ever  produce  a  desired 
result. 


Waldenton  Court  House  was  visible  from  every 
part  of  the  climbing  old  town;  for  some  ambitious 
architect,  fired  with  the  desire  to  "  hang"  another 
"  dome  in  air,"  had  been  so  successful,  that  by  far  the 


278  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

greater  part  of  the  edifice  was  within  that  dome,  and 
in  consequence,  the  rooms  below  were  somewhat 
contracted.  Early  one  cold  morning  in  December, 
the  old  court  room  was  packed  with  men  and  wo- 
men, from  the  three  divisions  of  Waldenton.  Car- 
riages rolled  down  here  from  the  heights,  the  mid- 
dle-town people  swarmed  in  at  the  many  doors; 
women  brought  their  knitting  and  their  luncheon 
that  they  might  not  by  leaving  an  eligible  position 
at  the  recess  of  the  Court,  lose  their  place  in  the 
afternoon.  There  were  crowds  of  business  men,  who 
had  deserted  their  duties,  and  an  ignoble  army  of 
roughs  from  under  the  hill. 

The  judge  was  an  old  man,  gray  and  grim.  Aller- 
ton  Bland,  the  District  Attorney,  was  as  fat  and  rosy 
as  an  overgrown  school  boy.  The  four  lawyers  for 
the  defence  were  all  sallow,  spare,  impenetrable  fel- 
lows, of  whom  one,  Griblow,  was  the  lankest  and 
the  most  alert.  After  the  impanelling  of  the  jury, 
the  Attorney  stated  the  case  so  far  as  the  knowledge 
of  the  prosecution  went,  and  proceeded  to  define  the 
degrees  of  murder  at  common  law,  and  the  signifi- 
cance of  malice  in  law  as  a  wrongful  act,  done  in- 
tentionally, without  just  cause  or  excuse. 

The  attention  of  the  town  and  county  people  was 
equally  divided  between  the  calm  and  gentlemanly 
prisoner,  and  the  bobbing  head  of  the  District  At- 


AT    THE    BAR.  279 

torney,  as  he  roared  out,  "  I  intend  to  present  this 
peculiar  case  to  you  without  prejudice,  without  pas- 
sion, without  professional  pride.  I  have  no  private 
feeling  in  this  matter  except  that  justice  should 
be  done,  both  to  the  people  and  the  prisoner. 
It  is  not  for  me  to  say  what  the  defence  is  in 
this  case.  If  it  be  legal,  if  it  be  proven,  I  can 
only  say  I  trust  that  you  will  render  a  verdict  in 
accordance  with  it,  acquitting  the  prisoner.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  you  are  satisfied  after  it  has  been 
interposed,  that  the  people  have  made  out  a  case  of 
murder  beyond  a  reasonable  doubt,  it  is  a  plain  duty 
that  you  owe  to  your  God,  to  the  people,  and  to 
yourselves,  to  smite  the  ready  hand  of  the  assassin; 
it  is  no  less  your  duty  to  sustain  the  time-honored 
principles  of  the  law,  which  have  stood  the  test  of 
ages.  Should  there  be  in  the  course  of  proceedings 
here  developed,  any  mitigating  circumstances  which 
the  law  recognizes,  I  would  suggest  to  you  now  that 
the  pardoning  power  is  given  to  the  governor  of  the 
state,  with  a  view  of  meeting  cases  where  there  seem 
to  be  circumstances  which  may,  outside  of  sound, 
genuine,  legal  principles  mitigate  the  offence.  You 
must  not  fail  to  sustain  the  law  by  a  righteous  ver- 
dict. If  it  turns  out  on  this  trial  that  this  defendant 
committed  this  act,  but  that  still,  under  the  law, 
you  can  say  by  your  verdict  he  may  go  scot-free,  no 


280  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

person  shall  be  more  satisfied  than  I.  But  if  it  shall 
appear  to  you  that  he  committed  this  offence  with- 
out palliating  circumstances,  that  he  was  at  the 
time  in  sound  mind  and  memory,  if  it  shall  still 
further  appear  to  you  that  he  deliberately  planned 
this  attack,  and  placed  himself  purposely  in  a  posi- 
tion with  a  view  to  kill  this  woman,  all  defenceless 
and  weak  as  she  was,  I  trust  that  you  will  not  by 
your  verdict,  say  that  vengeance  for  any  supposed 
personal  grievance  shall  be  thus  taken  into  the 
hands  of  private  persons." 

Mr.  Bland  ceased  just  as  all  the  women  in  the 
room  thought  he  was  going  to  be  very  eloquent, 
and  immediately  after  this  began  the  taking  of  testi- 
mony from  witnesses  on  the  part  of  the  prosecution. 
All  the  evidence  brought  forward  at  the  coroner's 
inquest  was  repeated,  amplified,  and  tediously  sifted. 

The  counsel  for  the  people  endeavored  to  show 
that  there  was  a  disagreement  amounting  to  a 
quarrel  between  Rushmore  and  Mrs.  Melton  imme- 
diately before  the  shooting  of  the  latter,  that  Rush- 
more  was  heard  to  threaten  that  if  she  refused  to 
comply  with  certain  requests,  she  must  take  the 
consequences,  and  that  she  would  not  give  some 
promise  desired.  They  tried  to  make  prominent 
the  idea  that  previous  to  the  disagreement  between 
the  parties,  not  fully  explained  and  altogether  sus- 


AT    THE    BAR.  281 

picious  relations  existed  between  them;  that  Mrs. 
Melton  had  imparted  to  various  persons  the  infor- 
mation that  she  was  to  marry  Rushmore,  while  his 
words  and  manner  had  seemed  to  indicate  that  the  tie 
between  them  was  simply  one  of  business;  further- 
more while  he  gave  her  the  ordinary  pay  of  a  copy- 
ist, he  made  her  extravagant  presents,  such  as  money 
sufficient  to  pay  all  the  expenses  of  her  child's  trip 
from  Europe. 

A  lively  cross-examination  of  witnesses  on  these 
points  last  mentioned  took  all  weight  out  of  their 
testimony,  and  left  it  worthless  as  evidence. 

The  office-boy  being  brought  forward  declared 
that  a  short  time  before  the  shooting  affair  a  letter 
was  brought  to  Rushmore,  who,  while  in  the  act  of 
reading  it,  uttered  Mrs.  Melton's  name  twice  in  a 
very  angry  tone.  Ten  minutes  later  the  boy  was 
sent  on  an  errand,  when  he  returned  to  the  office 
he  found  it  locked;  he  was  in  the  street  half  an  hour 
after,  when  he  heard  first  of  the  affair  in  Mrs.  McGer- 
kin's  house. 

The  letter  was  called  for,  produced,  and  a  tedious 
discussion  arose  in  regard  to  its  admission  as  evidence. 

"  That's  awful  mean,  now,  for  them  to  ferret  out 
that  letter,"  whispered  Peleg  Irving  to  Mr.  Hatha- 
way. The  two  old  men  were  crowded  together  under 
a  gallery.  "  Rushmore  looks  cut  up,"  he  continued. 


282  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

"  See  how  white  he  is;  there  was  a  good  color  in  his 
cheeks  when  they  quashed  that  last  matter." 

"What  do  you  think  the  letter  is?"  asked  the 
minister. 

"Eunice  told  me  Annie  Leigh  wrote  it,  asking 
what  some  foolish  gossip  meant.  If  they  read  it, 
the  lawyers  probably  will  try  to  show  that  he  was 
engaged  to  marry  one  woman  and  had  to  free  him- 
self from  Mrs.  Melton,  that  he  could  not  do  this, 
and  so  he  killed  her;  but  Eunice  says  there  is  an 
answer  to  that  letter,  in  which  Rushmore  said  he 
should  ask  Mrs.  Melton  to  go  and  spend  that  very 
evening  at  the  Leigh  house.  Do  you  take  it  the 
lawyers  will  claim  he  meant  to  kill  her  before  he 
took  her  there  ?  " 

"  I  am  so  confused,"  whispered  Mrs.  Irving,  who 
sat  just  behind  Peleg,  "  that  I  don't  see  anything. 
If  I  was  trying  a  man  for  doing  something,  it  would 
be  my  way  to  prove  he  did  it,  before  I  floundered 
around  asking  what  he  did  not  do  the  day  before." 

"Women  never  do  see  into  law  matters,  Martha; 
i  these  noble  thinkers  are  leading  up  to  something, 
and  picking  wool  off  all  the  bushes  as  they  go.  If 
here  doesn't  come  that  con — sarned  old  pill-box — 
beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Hathaway ! "  cried  Peleg, 
pinched  by  his  wife  and  exasperated  by  sight  of  the 
surgeon,  who  had  been  for  some  reason  recalled  to 


AT    THE    BAR.  283 

the  witness  box.  "I  am  so  sick  of  his  'shot-wound' 
that  was  on  the  right  side  of  something  '  posterior- 
ly,' or  else  wasn't.  What's  the  odds,  if  it  killed  the 
poor  creature  ? " 

At  this, stage  of  affairs,  the  Court  announced  that 
all  witnesses  must  be  present  the  next  morning  at 
ten  o'clock,  admonished  the  jurors  not  to  converse 
or  hear  conversation  on  the  case  during  adjourn- 
ment, and  the  tedious  day  was  over.  Peleg  summed 
up  the  details  so  far  as  a  "  muddle  of  maybes,"  while, 
as  the  crowd  surged  out  of  the  court  room  into  the 
dismal  twilight  of  the  short  afternoon,  frail  Mrs. 
Irving  had  hard  work  to  escape  the  elbows  of  a  flu- 
ent Irishwoman,  who  ardently  desired  that  '  The 
arrishtercratic  wretch,  wid  all  his  illigence,  might 
yet  dangle  high  an'  dry  fer  the  sins  of  him." 

In  every  place  that  evening  where  the  townsfolk 
congregated,  the  trial  was  the  one  topic  discussed. 
Many  declared  that  Rushmore's  guilt  could  never 
be  proved  and  he  must  go  free.  Some  believed  the 
weightiest  testimony  had  not  yet  come  in  on  the  side 
of  the  prosecution;  but  it  was  the  prevailing  opinion 
that,  whatever  was  the  verdict  of  the  jury,  his  inno- 
cence could  never  be  clearly  established  or  the  stain 
on  the  fair,  old  Rushmore  name  be  entirely  effaced. 
The  young  man  might  escape  hanging,  but  in  spite 
of  his  culture  or  his  wealth,  years  would  pass  before, 


284  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

in  Waldenton,  his  social  position  would  be  an  en- 
viable one. 

The  first  hours  of  the  next  day's  proceedings  were 
taken  up  with  cross-examinations,  with  noisy  bat- 
tles, as  to  what  was  evidence,  and  what  was  not. 
Nothing  at  all  startling  was  brought  forward,  and 
when  the  forenoon  was  almost  gone  the  prosecution 
rested.  There  was  a  brief  breathing  spell  and  then 
Griblow,  for  the  defendant,  slowly  came  into  sight, 
above  the  counsel  table,  as  if  he  were  letting  out  the 
vertebrae  of  an  overlong  and  doubled  up  spine. 
With  great  coolness,  he  made  a  motion,  which  cre- 
ated a  sensation — a  motion  for  the  Court  to  instruct 
the  jury  "that  the  defendant  is  not  called  upon  to 
make  any  defence,"  and  calmly  added,  "  I  respect- 
fully submit  to  the  Court,  that  there  is  no  proof  of 
the  first  element  of  murder.  I  submit,  that  they 
have  not,  to  begin  with,  proved  that  Mrs.  Melton 
was  killed  by  the  prisoner.  Now  if  the  Court  please, 
let  us  see  where  this  case  stands,  and  what  the  Dis- 
trict Attorney  has  proven.  He  has — " 

"  What  is  the  motion  before  the  Court  ? "  put  in 
the  pompous  little  person  alluded  to  so  quietly. 

"I  claim,"  returned  Griblow,  "that  I  am  not 
called  on  under  the  law,  to  make  any  defence  at  all, 
and  the  Court  must  say  so  to  the  jury." 

"  Then  is  the  case  closed  ?  " 


AT    THE    BAR.  285 

"No,  sir;  the  case  is  not  closed." 

"  He  has  no  right  to  make  any  such  request," 
cried  the  District  Attorney.  "There  is  no  such 
practice,  as  requesting  the  Court  to  charge  the  jury 
until  the  case  is  closed.  The  counsel  must  rest  his 
case,  or  go  on  with  the  evidence." 

"As  I  understand  the  practice,"  put  in  the  solemn 
old  judge,  "  he  rests  his  case,  for  the  purpose  of  his 
motion.  If  the  Court  should  not  coincide  with  his 
view,  then  he  would  have  the  right  to  go  on  with 
his  testimony." 

"  I  never  heard  of  such  a  practice  in  criminal 
cases,"  said  the  District  Attorney,  very  red  in  his 
youthful  countenance. 

"  I  will  state  it  as  a  universal  practice,"  said  Grib- 
low,  stretching  his  neck  to  let  out  another  link 
somewhere  in  himself.  "  A  common  practice,  a 
proper  practice,  if  the  prosecution  have  proved 
nothing,  if  there  is  no  evidence  that  would  justify 
the  jury  in  convicting,  then  the  Court  should  say  so 
to  the  jury.  What  is  this  case  ?  The  prisoner  here, 
is  indicted  for  the  crime  of  wilful  murder.  To  sus- 
tain this  indictment,  surely  the  prosecution  must 
prove  beyond  a  reasonable  doubt,  that  the  accused, 
killed  the  party  alleged  in  the  indictment.  But 
when  they  have  proved  this,  they  have  only  taken 
the  first  step  in  proving  the  crime  of  murder.  The 


286  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

mere  fact  of  killing,  if  there  is  anything  in  this  case 
from  which  that  can  be  inferred,  does  not  by  any 
means,  constitute  the  crime  of  murder,  and  they 
have  not  proved  that  there  was  any  motive  what- 
ever, from  which  an  attempt  to  take  life,  might  be 
inferred.  There  is  not  a  particle  of  evidence  in  the 
case,  that  the  pistol  was  ever  in  Rushmore's  posses- 
sion, or  in  his  hands.  They  prove,  that  just  before 
the  time  of  the  shooting,  he  was  in  the  room,  that 
soon  after  the  transaction,  many  people  were  there, 
and  the  prisoner  among  them.  Suppose  that  is 
true,  have  we  got  the  murder  yet  ?  Have  we  any 
murder  at  all  ?  Talk  about  hanging  the  accused  on 
evidence  of  this  kind!  Let  me  remind  you,  gentle- 
men, that  you  cannot  guess  people's  lives  away, 
and  you  cannot  infer  people's  lives  away,  unless 
upon  conviction  that  legally  justifies  the  inference. 
I  respectfully  submit,  that  we  are  not  called  upon  to 
make  a  defence  in  this  case." 

The  Court,  in  the  person  of  the  judge,  was  at- 
tacked by  a  violent  paroxysm  of  sneezing. 

"  What  does  that  Griblow  mean,  Peleg,"  whis- 
pered Mrs.  Irving,  who  believed  in  her  husband's 
quicker  intuitions. 

"That  nobody  knows  much  but  Sally  McGerkin, 
and  she  has  been  converted  since  the  inquest,  and 
now  says  she  don't  like  to  tell  more  than  she 


AT    THE    BAR.  287 

* 

knows,  even  if  it  is  not  enough;  so  we  will  all  go 
home  to  dinner.  If  I  were  in  Rushmore's  place,  I 
would  almost  rather  be  hanged,  than  be  mixed  up 
in  such  a  fizzle  of  a  trial." 

The  Court  having  ceased  to  sneeze,  remarked 
through  a  reddened  nose.  "  This  is  not  a  case  that 
the  Court  can  take  from  the  jury  under  the  circum- 
stances. The  Court  thinks  the  jury  are  entitled  to 
pass  on  this  question  of  the  guilt  or  innocence.  The 
prosecution  are  entitled  to  have  it  go  to  the^uryfor 
that  purpose.  The  motion  is  therefore  denied." 

During  the  hour's  recess,  which  immediately  fol- 
lowed these  proceedings,  everybody  was  wondering 
what  Mr.  Griblow's  conduct  presaged. 

Before  the  Court  convened  again,  one  third  of 
the  men  in  Waldenton  was  firmly  convinced  that 
Griblow  was  only  desirous  of  saving  his  own  breath 
and  the  juror's  valuable  time.  Another  third  was 
privately  of  the  opinion,  that  the  defendant's  was  a 
lost  cause,  if  the  case  went  on  to  the  summing  up 
by  the  eloquent  Bland.  Everybody  argued  that  the 
trial  would  no't  be  long  drawn  out. 

Griblow  had  received  a  new  idea,  but  so  far  from 
pluming  himself  on  the  fact,  he  reflected  that  he  had 
been  a  great  fool  heretofore,  in  taking  some  things 
for  granted.  But  he  made  the  motion  before  he  had 
the  idea. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

In  the  Afternoon. 

A  FTER  the  short  noon  recess  the  court  room 
•*»•  was  again  filled  to  overflowing,  so  that  sev- 
eral smaller  rooms  were  crowded  with  those  who 
would  hear  something,  if  they  could  see  nothing.  In 
one  of  the  smallest  and  most  private  of  these  apart- 
ments sat  Annie,  Agnes  and  Miss  Eunice.  The  lat- 
ter was  decidedly  hysterical;  but  Agnes  constant- 
ly exerted  herself  to  cheer  and  encourage  Annie, 
who  received  her  efforts — without  words,  smiling  but 
faintly.  Agnes's  own  composure  was  feigned.  Cer- 
tain awful  words  of  her  father,  lately  uttered,  were 
echoing  in  her  memory:  "  If  the  man  without  a 
shadow  went  on  through  life  a  terror  to  himself  and 
shunned  by  others,  how  will  it  be  with  a  man  doubly 
shadowed,  dogged  by  the  impalpable,  ever-haunting 
spectre  of  a  crime." 

"  I  wish  I  had  not  come  here,"  said  Annie,  grow- 


IN    THE    AFTERNOON.  289 

ing  paler;  "  the  lawyers  out  there  look  so  dull  and 
cold-blooded." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Miss  Lathrop.  "Just  wait  until 
you  hear  the  opening  for  the  defence,  and  you  will 
be  all  hope  and  courage." 

"  How  worn  and  jaded  Rushmore  looks,"  said 
somebody  the  other  side  of  the  open  door.  Agnes, 
leaning  forward,  watched  him  for  an  instant.  He 
had  grown  old  in  these  weeks,  and  lost  out  of  his 
manner  its  languor  and  indifference. 

"  Are  the  Irvings  anywhere  there  ? "  asked  Miss 
Eunice. 

"  Peleg  is  in  his  usual  place.  Now  they  are  going 
to  begin  and  Mr.  Griblow  is  not  present.  I  thought 
he  was  to  make  the  opening  speech,"  said  Agnes. 

"  No,  he  sums  up  matters,"  returned  Miss  Eunice. 
"  It  is  to  be  Little  Perkins  now,  the  one  who  draws 
his  head  in  and  out  of  his  coat  collar,  until  you  think 
of  a  turtle  and  its  shell." 

"  Is  not  Mr.  Griblow  there  yet  ? "  asked  Annie, 
anxiously. 

"  No,  he  has  been  rushing  around  during  recess 
after  Sally  McGerkin,  and  has  been  at  the  Irving's; 
he  will  do  his  best  when  the  time  comes,"  said 
Agnes. 

"  Hush,  dear,  the  speaker  has  begun,"  whispered 
Miss  Eunice. 


290  EUNICE    LATffROP,    SPINSTER. 

Perkins  opened  for  the  defence.  He  made  it  loudly 
known  that  he  stood  in  the  armor  of  truth  and  jus- 
tice, advocating  innocence,  and  overwhelming  was 
the  trust  confided  in  him. 

He  bellowed  it  forth  that  notwithstanding  "this 
indictment  may  Have  been  properly  found  on  ex 
parte  evidence  before  the  grand  jury — this  indict- 
ment is  false,  it  is  a  lie  !  The  people  are  not  the 
prosecutors  of  Julian  Rushmore,"  etc.,  etc. 

He  then  went  over  the  whole  case  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  so  far  as  he  was  able  to  state  it,  after 
which  he  drew  his  little  round  head  in,  as  if  taking 
it  out  of  the  reach  of  Bland,  and  remarked  in  a 
confidential  stage-whisper:  "The  District  Attorney 
does  not  want  any  outside  counsel  to  try  such  a 
case.  He  has  just  entered  on  his  official  career,  and 
young  as  he  is,  he  has  '  no  professional '  pride  as  he 
told  you  yesterday  !  !  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you 
may  be  sure  you  will  see  the  usual  case  of  the  law 
officer  prosecuting  a  defendant  for  crime — exactly 
as  if  he  were  private  counsel.  Your  prejudices  will 
be  stirred  by  artful  pleading.  You  will  be  called 
upon  to  stifle"  your  noblest  instincts,  to  sit  dull  and 
cold,  as  stones.  You  will  hear  mawkish  sentiment. 
Appeals  will  be  made  to  you  to  look  upon  this  pris- 
oner— this  genial,  sensitive  gentleman  as  a  hardened 
wretch,  a  blood-thirsty  murderer,  etc.,  etc.  It  will 


IN    THE    AFTERNOON.  291 

be  hinted  that  we  plead  his  innocence,  not  because 
he  is  a  man  unjustly  accused  of  crime;  but  because 
he  is  a  gentleman.  We  beg  you  to  scorn  that  base 
insinuation.  If  you  were  twelve  executioners  anx- 
iously waiting  for  a  victim,  around  whose  neck  you 
had  fixed  the  noose — if  you  were  twelve  savages  im- 
patient for  the  scalp  of  a  defenceless  fellow-creature, 
such  appeals  to  your  passions  might  not  be  without 
avail;  but,  thank  heaven,  you  are  husbands  and  fa- 
thers. You  are  men  of  moral  worth  and  insight,  you 
have  intellectual  faculties,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.  The  Dis- 
trict Attorney  makes  this  suggestion.  He  says:  '  If 
there  is  any  doubt  you  can  find  your  verdict  of  guilty 
and  the  governor  can  pardon." 

"  I  did  not  say  that  if  there  is  any  doubt,"  retorted 
Bland,  whereat  Perkins  from  within  his  shell,  se- 
renely continued,  "  Gentlemen,  that  suggestion  was 
made  to  you — to  you  whose  province  is  higher  than 
governors,  higher  than  counsel,  higher  than  district 
attorneys,  and  higher  than  courts,  higher  than  pres- 
idents. You  are  the  men  to  determine  what  shall 
be  done  with  this  man,  Rushmore.  We  beg  you  not 
to  be  controlled  by  any  such  monstrous  suggestion," 
and  by  this  time  entirely  out  from  his  shirt  collar, 
Perkins  beamed  lovingly  upon  the  twelve  jurors,  as 
if  he  were  longing  to  press  them,  individually  and 
collectively  to  his  .beating  heart.  This  done,  the 


292  EUNICE    LA  THRO P,    SPINSTER. 

speaker  narrowed  in  to  a  close,  but  narrowed  thrill- 
ingly,  pathetically.  How  "dark  and  dismal"  all 
through  life  would  be  these  too  credulous  jurors' 
after-thoughts,  how  like  delirium  their  troubled 
slumbers,  if  by  their  verdict  they  "crushed  out  this 
brave  young  life,  and  sent  this  aged  father  over  a 
darkened  threshold  to  a  ruined  home — to  agony,  to 
wailing,  to  tears,"  and  sinking  out  of  sight,  Perkins 
melted  into  a  voluminous  white  handkerchief. 

A  few  minutes-  before  the  speech  ended,  Griblow 
stalked  into  the  court  room  like  an  animated  yard- 
stick; but  presently  collapsed  into  his  seat  at  the 
counsel  table,  as  limp  as  any  tape  measure.  Those 
who  knew  Griblow  well,  and  were  near  enough  to 
study  his  face  were  puzzled.  He  rarely  looked  so 
idiotic  unless  he  felt  that  his  work  was  done.  Soon 
after  he  took  his  seat,  it  was  apparent  that  some  in- 
tense excitement  was  being  kept  under,  and  that, 
too,  when  in  the  opinion  of  those  persons  who 
packed  the  remote  parts  of  the  room  these  lawyers 
about  the  table  were  singularly  slow  and  stupid.  A 
few  tired  listeners  strayed  off  into  the  outer  halls; 
but  before  very  long,  some  magnetic  influence  from 
that  inner  circle  subtly  pervaded  the  entire  au- 
dience, and  the  impression  gained  that  new  and 
startling  evidence  was  forthcoming. 

Men  and  women  who  fringed  the  room  against  the 


IN    THE    AFTERNOON.  293 

wall,  stood  up  on  benches;  then  the  rumor  ran  around 
that  Amos  Cobb,  the  milkman,  had  actually  seen  the 
murder,  and  could  swear  to  every  particular  of  the 
horrible  affair.  Order  was  with  difficulty  restored, 
when  Amos  was  discovered  edging  his  way  into  the 
room  under  conduct  of  an  officer.  He  was  suddenly 
lost  to  sight,  and  Sally  McGerkin  reappeared  in  his 
place  in  the  witness  box.  She  had  added  a  red 
feather  to  her  bonnet,  and  aware  that  she  might  be 
about  to  make  a  sensation,  her  voice  was  shriller 
than  ever  when  after  being  duly  sworn,  and  care- 
fully questioned,  she  asserted  in  addition  to  her  pre- 
vious testimony,  that  one  circumstance  had  here- 
tofore escaped  her  memory.  It  was  this:  a  few 
moments  before  Rushmore  entered  her  house,  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  shooting  of  Mrs.  Melton,  Amos 
Cobb  stopped  with  his  milk  cart  at  a  gate  opening 
from  her  back  yard,  into  a  lane  which  connected 
two  of  the  town's  broader  streets.  She  had  a  brief 
chat  with  him,  after  he  had  given  her  a  quart  of 
milk.  That  day,  she  happened  to  have  brought  a 
shallow  pan  instead  of  a  pail,  in  which  to  receive  j 
the  milk;  and  as  she  stood  near  the  cart,  with  the; 
pan  in  her  hand,  she  now  remembered  that  Guy] 
Melton,  the  dead  woman's  son,  passed  by  her 
through  the  gate,  jostling  her  elbow  as  he  went. 
She  gave  him  a  sharp  rebuke,  and  paid  no  more  at- 


294  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

tention  to  him.  She  did  not  turn  around  at  Amos 
Cobb's  next  remark,  because  she  knew  what  he 
meant  when  he  asked  laughing,  "  Do  your  lodgers 
all  run  up  the  side  of  your  house  and  down  the 
chimney,  or  is  this  chap  training  for  the  circus  ? " 
At  the  inquest  she  was  not  questioned  by  any  one  in 
regard  to  the  child,  and  having  it  in  her  mind  that 
he  had  gone  away  to  spend  the  day,  she  forgot  the 
little  occurrence,  and  had  never  seen  the  boy  since. 
Amos  Cobb  next  took  the  stand,  and  being  sworn, 
related  precisely  the  same  story  concerning  himself, 
only  adding  that  he  plainly  saw  Guy  Melton  climb 
the  lattice  by  Mrs.  McGerkin's  woodshed  and  enter 
a  second  story  back  window  df  her  house.  He  drove 
away  on  his  round  of  calls  after  that,  and  about  a 
half  an  hour  later,  he  heard  confused  reports  of  fire, 
of  murder,  of  some  dreadful  accident  in  Buckingham 
Street.  Turning  his  horse  around,  he  went  rapidly 
back,  and,  at  a  corner  near  that  street,  the  old  nag, 
always  accustomed  to  making  a  turn  through  the 
lane,  clattered  off  in  that  direction.  He  wras  turn- 
ing again,  much  wondering  what  the  rumors  did 
mean  when  he  saw  Guy  Melton  crouching  down  by 
a  great  stone  in  the  lane.  It  did  not  occur  to  Amos, 
who  was  vexed  at  his  horse,  to  ask  the  boy  any 
questions;  he  did  notice  that  Guy  seemed  all  ab- 
sorbed in  something,  and  by  the  time  the  milkman 


Iff    THE    AFTERNOON.  295 

had  got  out  again,  where  he  could  strike  Buckingham 
Street,  the  uproar  there  put  every  other  thought 
out  of  his  head.  Since  then,  he  had  thought  sev- 
eral times  of  the  child,  but  had  supposed  that, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  anything  he  might  know, 
would  come  to  light  at  once. 

Amos  Cobb  was  known  throughout  Waldenton, 
and  well  characterized  by  Peleg  Irving  as  a  "bald- 
headed  fact."  No  sharp  cross-questions  could  make 
the  honest  old  chap  confused  or  contradictory,  and 
he  was  in  turn  dismissed. 

"The  child!  The  child!  They  are  going  to 
bring  into  court  the  boy ! "  was  the  word  that  went 
like  lightning  around  the  room;  a  moment  later, 
and  out  of  the  buzz  of  whispered  questions  and  sug- 
gestions-came the  news,  that  the  prisoner  was  to  be 
confronted  by  an  eyewitness  of  his  horrid  deed.  The 
child  of  the  murdered  woman  had  been  terrified  into 
silence,  and  hidden  by  Rushmore's  friends,  but  now 
the  majesty  of  the  law  was  to  be  vindicated,  and  the 
guilty  man,  after  all,  brought  to  a  just  judgment. 

Old  Mr.  Rushmore  fainted  when  every  face  was 
turned,  and  every  neck  stretched  in  the  direction 
of  a  door  through  which  issued  a  stout  officer  car- 
rying carefully,  a  pale-faced  boy,  who  either  by 
reason  of  the  thronging  crowd  or  some  bodily  weak- 
ness, seemed  unable  to  walk. 


296  EUNICE    LATHKOP,    SPINSTER. 

"  Do  you  understand  the  nature  of  an  oath  ? "  was 
the  customary  question  put  to  him,  when  he  was  in 
the  witness  box,  with  seven  hundred  people  persist- 
ingly  struggling  to  see  the  little  brown  head,  to 
hear  the  thin,  fine  voice. 

"  I  do.  God  in  heaven  hears  me.  If  I  tell  the 
truth,  He  loves  me;  but  if  I  swear  to  a  lie,  I  am  in 
danger  of  His  anger,  and  sometime  of  His  punish- 
ment. I  know  it  all,"  Guy  answered,  in  his  slow, 
old-fashioned  way,  and  then,  with  as  few  questions 
as  would  serve  their  purpose,  the  lawyers  let  him 
tell  his  own  story. 

"I  am  ten  years  old,  my  birthday  was  last  month. 
I  lived  with  my  mother;  she  was  Mrs.  Elsie  Melton, 
and  our  home  was  at  Mrs.  McGerkin's.  I  have  been 
in  bed  at  Mrs.  Irving's  ever  since  she  was  shot,  and 
nobody  has  talked  to  me  about  her  until  to-day. 
Sometimes  I  was  crazy  and  couldn't  think,  .some- 
times I  could  think  and  would  not  talk.  Yes,  sir;  I 
went  to  Mr.  Irving's  that  day  in  the  morning,  and 
I  played  in  the  garden  until  my  head  ached;  after 
dinner  it  ached  more,  and-  there  was  nothing  new  to 
play  with,  and  Mrs.  Irving  said  I  was  so  restless  and 
had  a  fever,  that  I  must  keep  out  of  the  hot  sun.  I 
got  into  the  hammock  and  called  it  a  ship  on  the 
ocean.  I  think  I  went  to  sleep  in  it.  When  I  waked 
up  I  did  not  tell  Mrs.  Irving  what  I  was  going  to 


Iff    THE    AFTERNOON.  297 

do,  because  I  meant  to  come  back  to  supper;  but  I 
did  go  home.  Yes,  sir;  but  not  by  Buckingham 
Street,  because  Mrs.  McGerkin  did  not  like  me  to 
run  in  and  out  of  her  front  door.  I  went  by  the  lane, 
and  she  was  at  the  gate  talking  to  the  milkman.  I 
hit  her  elbow,  and  she  scolded  me;  she  said  I  almost 
made  her  spill  all  that  milk.  I  climbed  up  the  lat- 
tice behind  the  house  and  went  in  at  my  mother's 
bedroom  window. 

"  Yes,  sir;  I  can  tell  just  what  I  did  next.  I 
went  to  my  '  own  house ' — that  is  what  I  called 
it.  It  is  a  beautiful  big  screen  in  three  leaves, 
and  it  always  stood  outside  the  bedroom  door, 
in  the  drawing-room.  It  made  a  little  room  it- 
self, and  I  played  there.  What  made  it  beautiful-? 
The  Chinese  pictures  on  it;  there  were  tea  gardens 
and  bridges  and  funny  ladies  with  fans  in  their  hands 
and  strange  men  dressed  like  ladies.  My  mother 
said  these  were  mandarins.  No,  sir;  it  was  not  very 
new.  A  lady  gave  that  screen  to  her,  and  once  a ' 
rat,  or  maybe  a  little  dog,  had  torn  the  head  of  the 
very  biggest  mandarin  all  out;  and  part  of  his  shoul- 
ders too.  That  hole  made  my  window;  I  could  sit 
on  the  floor  and  see  everything  in  the  drawing-room. 

"No,  we  never  had  visitors,  only  a  lady  called  once, [ 
and  then  there  were  people  to  order  work — embroi- 
dery, and  Mr.  Rushmore's  boy  with  papers.    How  did 


298  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

I  know  Mr.  Rushmore  ?  I  often  saw  him.  Once  I 
went  back  with  that  boy  to  his  office  and  got  more 
papers.  My  mother  said  if  I  told  what  I  saw  or 
heard  at  home,  I  should  be  burned  with  fire  for 
thousands  of  years  after  I  died;  but  I  never  saw 
anything  until  that  day.  He  came.  Mr.  Rush- 
more?  Yes,  I  mean  him.  I  was  painting  a  lion 
green;  all  the  other  paints  were  used  up.  Yes,  she 
knew  I  was  behind  the  screen;  but  I  kept  still,  so 
she  did  not  send  me  away.  I  can't  tell  what  they 
said.  They  talked  fast,  and  my  head  ached  so  I 
had  to  stop  painting.  They  did  not  agree  about 
something.  I  could  tell  my  mother's  pistol;  she  let 
me  see  it  that  morning,  when  she  said  she  was  go- 
ing to  put  it  in  a  new  place. 

"No,  that  is  not  it,  nor  that.  It  was  not  pretty  at 
all.  Yes,  sir;  that  is  like  it.  No,  I  cannot  remem- 
ber what  she  said  when  they  seemed  angry.  I  think 
he  wanted  her  to  say  that  something  she  had  said 
was  not  true.  She  did  not  talk  loud;  she  never  did 
that;  but  I  was  afraid  of  her  after — after — I  mean 
I  knew  I  should  be  "afraid  of  her  when  Mr.  Rush- 
more  went  away.  Sometimes — she  did — not  love  me. 

"I  looked  through  the  hole  where  the  Chinaman's 
head  had  been  and  thought  I  would  go  back  to 
Mr.  Irving's.  No,  sir,  they  were  not  sitting  on 
the  sofa.  They  were  standing ;  he  was  at  one 


IN    THE    AFTERNOON.  299 

side  of  the  table  and  my  mother  was  the  oth- 
er side  by  the  fireplace.  I  did  not  see  the  pistol 
on  the  table;  but  I  did  not  look  at  the  table,  I 
looked  at  my  mother,  and  I  did  see  the  pistol  in  her 
hand.  Yes,  I  had  looked  at  Mr.  Rushmore,  and  I 
don't  think  he  had  anything  in  his  hand  before  that. 
She  did  not  hold  it  only  a  single  minute;  she  was 
going  to  put  it  back  on  the  high  mantel,  where  I 
saw  it  in  the  morning. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  know  that,  because  she  lifted  her  hand 
with  it  so  I  saw  it.  It  went  off  with  an  awful  noise. 
I  think  she  fell.  I  was  so  frightened  I  don't  know 
what  next.  I  did  not  think  she  would  be  dead — I 
never  saw  anybody  dead — but  I  was  afraid  to  look. 

"I  ran  and  got  out  of  the  bedroom  window.  I 
could  not  hold  to  the  lattice,  and  I  fell;  when 
I  hit  the  ground  I  could  not  walk  at  first.  In 
the  lane  I  stopped  a  while.  I  wanted  to  go  back 
and  see  —  everything — but  I  was  afraid  of  some- 
thing dreadful.  She  said  fire  would  burn  me,  if  I 
told  what  I  saw.  I  thought  maybe  it  made  great 
noises  all  the  time  like  pistols;  and  I  stopped 
by  a  big  old  stone  there,  because  I  was  seasick 
in  my  head — not  the  ache,  but  like  waves  in  it. 
I  thought  I  would  go  to  Mr.  Irving's,  and  I  don't  re- 
member any  more — only  days  when  the  doctor  came. 
I  am  almost  well  now,  and  I  remembered  all  about 


300  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER, 

that  pistol  when  the  gentleman  came  to-day  to  ask 
me;  but  I  would  not  tell,  because  I  did  not  know 
there  was  a  trial  or  what  it  was. 

"They  told  me  people  said  that  Mr.  Rushmore 

killed   my   mother,    and   he   would   have   to   suffer 

j  dreadfully  if  I  did  not  tell  anything  I  saw  or  knew, 

and  I  said  Mr.  Rushmore  did  not  kill  her — and  he 

did  not  do  it." 

The  silvery  voice  ceased  to  penetrate  the  marvel- 
lous stillness  of  the  court  room.  In  a  moment,  men 
who  dared  not  shout  in  the  presence  of  the  judge, 
wildly  waved  their  hats,  hands  and  handkerchiefs  in 
the  air,  women  were  laughing  and  sobbing.  Rush- 
more  had  bowed  his  head  and  hidden  his  face  in  his 
hands.  His  old  father  had  risen  with  a  radiant  coun- 
tenance, erect,  as  if  the  weight  of  years  had  rolled 
off  his  shoulders.  But  for  an  officer  near  by,  Peleg 
Irving  might  have  set  all  law  and  order  at  defiance, 
and  led  off  the  crowd  in  a  joyous  uproar. 

Suddenly  over  the  heads  of  the  lawyers  was  lifted 
the  old  silk  screen,  faded  and  clumsy.  There  were 
the  slant-eyed  ladies,  the  curious  pagodas  and  plainly 
to  be  seen  the  robes  of  the  headless  mandarin. 

"Come  down  and  show  us  how  you  looked  through 
here,"  said  Griblow,  and  Guy  slipped  out  of  sight  a 
second  before  two  great  soft  eyes  and  a  bit  of  fore- 
head appeared  framed  by  the  jagged  silk. 


IN'   THE    AFTERNOON.  301 

Eunice  Lathrop  would  have  rushed  past  the  judge 
and  jury  to  embrace  the  child,  if  Annie  had  not  clung 
tearfully  to  her  saying,  "  What  if  this  even  should 
not  clear  him  !  Oh  Agnes,  don't  you  think  it  must  ? " 

"I  know  that  it  will,  Annie,"  said  Ag-nes.  "Do 
keep  calm,  Miss  Lathrop !  The  child  is  to  be  cross- 
questioned  now  by  Bland." 

Yes,  the  District  Attorney  must  go  behind  Guy's 
story,  and  take  a  peep  into  his  brief  past  life,  must 
find  he  had  to  do  with  one  of  the  Pope's  own  family, 
while  Guy  folded  his  small  hands  and  took  it  all  as 
coolly  as  if  he  had  been  cross-legged  on  the  old 
tithing-table  gazing  at  stony  Lady  Kew  in  St.  Guth- 
lac's  instead  effacing  Bland,  Griblow,  Perkins,  twelve 
jurymen  and  a  judge  in  Waldenton  Court  House. 

The  testimony  for  the  defence  closed,  not  in  the 
three  hours'  speech  that  Griblow  had  prepared;  but  in 
these  words:  "  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury:  The  eloquent 
District  Attorney  in  opening,  remarked  that  this  was 
a  case  of  murder  or  nothing.  We  accept  the  issue. 
We  do  not  live  in  an  age  of  miracles,  when  angels 
interpose  to  stay  the  hand  that  would  smite  with  a 
too  ready  sword;  but  out  of  the  mouth  of  an  inno- 
cent child  have  truth  and  justice  been  this  day 
established." 

Bland  himself  had  intended  to  do  a  tremendous 
thing,  when  he  came  to  sum  up  for  the  prosecution; 


302  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

but  Griblow  had,  as  it  were,  removed  the  rostrum 
on  which  he  meant  to  hold  forth.  He  had  not  the 
vim  to  deal  quixotically  with  a  "nothing."  So,  sub- 
limely indifferent  to  the  impatient  people  of  the 
town  and  county,  the  judge  prepared  to  charge 
the  jury.  He  was  asthmatic,  he  sneezed  again  vio- 
lently, he  sneezed  deliberately,  he  administered 
snuff  to  the  nostrils  of  the  Court,  and  let  its  counte- 
nance become  perfectly  composed  before  he  stated 
to  said  jury:  "  that  sympathy  was  out  of  place  in  the 
jury  box." 

"  The  old  rhinoceros,"  groaned  Peleg  Irving,  add- 
ing soon,  "Well,  he  is  giving  them  a  fine  charge 
after  all." 

"  They  are  not  going  out!  They  are  not  going 
out!"  was  the  animating  intelligence  that  passed 
from  man  to  man.  The  pointer  of  the  big  clock  be- 
tween the  high  west  windows  of  the  court  room 
marked  off  just  seven  minutes  and  a  half,  and  then 
the  clerk  asked  if  the  jury  had  agreed  upon  a  ver- 
dict, and  the  foremen  returned,  "We  find  the  pris- 
oner Not  Guilty" 

Oh,  the  tumultuous  rejoicing  that  followed  the 
close  of  that  trial !  Rushmore  could  not  escape  to 
his  nearest  and  dearest  friends,  by  reason  of  the  rapt- 
urous congratulations  of  men  and  women,  who  had 
never  known  him  before  his  arrest.  The  ringleaders 


IN    THE    AFTERNOON.  303 

of  the  lower-town  roughs  who  had  persistingly  yelled 
by  night  under  his  prison  window,  now  rushed  out 
to  make  proper  public  demonstrations  in  the  streets. 
The  Waldenton  Brass  Band  appeared  in  the  Court 
House  yard,  and  when,  in  the  twilight,  Sally  Mc- 
Gerkin,  having  a  severe  cold,  was  sent  home  in  Grib- 
low's  private  carriage,  the  excited  populace  suppos- 
ing it  held  Rushmore,  followed  it  with  shouts,  cheers, 
and  the  stirring  strains,  "When  Johnny  comes 
marching  home  again  !" 

Their  ardor  cooling  after  a  half-mile  tramp  through 
the  mud  and  snow,  they  fell  away  quietly.  The  mis- 
take was  never  discovered,  and  Mrs.  McGerkin  was 
made  ecstatically  happy,  by  the  delicate  attention 
of  her  townspeople. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

After  the  Storm  a  Calm. 

A/TISS  EUNICE  LATHROP  was  essentially  ro- 
-L»A  mantic;  she  had  many  times  before  the  late 
trial  given  free  course  to  her  fancy,  and  delighted 
herself  in  planning  for  Annie  a  wedding,  such  as 
Waldenton  had  rarely  seen.  It  was  to  be,  of  course, 
in  the  one  perfect  month;  the  Leigh  mansion  must  be 
refurnished.  Flowers,  music  and  moonlight  should 
be  lavishly  diffused;  all  the  youth  and  beauty  of  the 
town  should  do  honor  to  the  lovely  bride.  Even 
in  the  darkest  days  she  did  not  wholly  relinquish 
these  bright  visions,  and  when  at  last  Rushmore's 
trial  was  over,  she  hinted  that  there  were  certain 
festivities  as  proper  for  December  as  for  June.  It 
was  with  a  real  shock  to  her  sensibilities  that  she 
learned  from  Annie's  own  lips  that  all  was  to  be 
prosaic  and  commonplace  in  the  extreme,  "the  very 
quietest  wedding  possible,  for  we  are  tired  of  people 
and  of  talk,"  were  Annie's  very  words. 


AFTER    THE    STORM  A    CALM.  305 

One  day  the  snow  fell  softly,  hour  after  hour,  until 
all  the  earth  was  spotless;  at  evening  it  ceased,  and 
there  was  a  full  moon;  in  this  one  particular  were 
Miss  Eunice's  fastidious  tastes  entirely  gratified. 

No  wedding  bells  rang  in  the  tower  of  the  old 
middle-town  church  that  night;  but  a  rosy  light 
gleamed  from  its  long  windows  and  warmly  illu- 
mined the  interior  of  the  sometimes  gloomy  place. 
No  congregation  filled  the  seats  as  on  Sunday;  but 
a  little  group  clustered  around  the  pulpit,  under 
which  stood  the  Reverend  Bela  Hathaway,  and  be- 
fore him  Julian  Rushmore  and  Annie  Leigh.  At 
Annie's  side  was  Agnes,  and  by  Rushmore  stood 
John  Irving.  The  little  half  circle  was  filled  out 
with  Rushmore's  father,  old  Peleg,  his  wife  and  Miss 
Lathrop.  The  minister  and  Mrs.  Irving  considered 
any  marriage  a  matter  of  deep  solemnity,  and  they 
looked  as  they  felt.  Mr.  Irving,  with  much  difficulty 
held  his  exuberant  spirit  in  check,  while  Miss  Eunice 
wept  and  smiled  alternately.  It  was  a  protracted 
ceremony,  for  the  Reverend  Bela  improved  the  oc- 
casion to  enlarge  on  the  conduct  of  human  life.  Per- 
haps the  happy  bridegroom  listened  with  undistracted 
thoughts;  but  Annie  was  remembering  the  summer 
afternoon  when  she  first  met  this  man  at  her  side,  in 
the  old  cloister  of  Westminster,  and  Agnes — well, 
for  her,  this  bare  New  England  "  Meeting  House," 


306  EUNICE    LATHKOP,    SPINSTER. 

had  its  memories  as  truly  as  if  it  had  chanced  to  be 
an  Old  World  abbey.  Out  from  its  organ  had  floated 
music  that  once  bewitched  her.  Here  in  the  high- 
backed  pew  by  the  middle  pillar  she  had  found  An- 
nie that  morning  when  she  came  with  her  gold  and 
purple  pansies  to  change  all  life  for  the  minister's 
daughter.  There,  only  a  step  away,  was  the  pulpit- 
stair  where  she  sat  while  John  Irving,  six  months 
before,  told  her  the  story  that  had  stirred  her  so 
slightly. 

The  Reverend  Bela  was  saying,  "  I  pronounce 
you  man  and  wife — "  when  Agnes,  catching  sight  of 
Rushmore's  face,  suddenly  realized  that  she  herself 
was  glad,  heartily  glad  in  this  moment.  It  seemed 
a  century  since  she  had  heard  him  play  that  organ. 
Truly  the  days  of  witchcraft  were  over  forever,  and 
great  had  been  the  folly  of  them. 

There  was  a  little  happy  excitement,  warm  greet- 
ings, well  wishes  and  very  soon  hasty  farewells,  for 
a  carriage  waited  at  the  church  door,  and  Walden- 
ton  was  to  see  no  more  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rushmore 
for  many  months  to  come. 

After  they  had  departed,  old  Peleg  exclaimed:  "I 
don't  feel  satisfied.  You  did  your  part  of  the  pro- 
gramme famously,  Brother  Hathaway.  I  thought  of 
what  the  guest  said  to  the  lady  of  her  cake;  it  ap- 
plied to  your  talk — '  Good  enough,  what  there  was  of 


AFTER     THE    STORM   A    CALM.  307 

it,  and  plenty  of  it  such  as  it  was;  but  as  for  me,  I 
would  like  to  dance  or  sing  or  play  on  the  Jew's 
harp  to  express  my  sympathy  with  youth  in  its 
golden  heyday  of  happiness  !  Won't  you  all  come 
over  and  spend  the  rest  of  the  evening  with  us  ? " 

The  minister  gravely  declined  the  invitation.  Mr. 
Rushmore  senior  had  gone  to  the  station  with  his  new 
daughter  and  his  son;  but  Agnes  and  Miss  Lathrop 
yielded  to  Peleg's  entreaties.  When  they  were  cos- 
ily seated  around  the  Irving  fireside,  Mrs.  Irving, 
John  and  Agnes  fell  into  a  practical  talk  as  to  the 
recarpeting  of  the  church;  but  Peleg  and  Miss  Eu- 
nice were  in  a  sentimental  mood,  and  became  char- 
acteristically confidential. 

"  I  am  proper  glad,  Eunice,  that  when  I  was  cast- 
ing about  for  a  wife,  I  did  not  happen  to  find  you;  I 
tell  you  we  would  have  been  a  revolutionary  couple." 

"  If  you  count  yourself  a  relic  of  that  age,  Mr.  Irv- 
ing, I  do  not;  you  know  well  enough  I  am  only 
forty-six  years  old." 

"No,  I  did  not  know,  but  I  meant  revolutionary 
in  action;  you  are  aggressive  and  so  am  I — we  should 
have  accomplished  too  much  in  this  world.  Martha, 
now,  makes  me  husband  my  resources.  When  I  tell 
her  how  I  could  easily  contrive  some  neat  little 
home-made  infernal  machine,  as  likely  as  not  she 
sends  me  out  to  chop  wood." 


308  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

"  That  is  all  right,"  returned  Miss  Eunice,  absent- 
mindedly.  She  was  absorbed  in  the  study  of  John's 
face  as  he  talked  to  Agnes,  but,  after  awhile,  she 
looked  earnestly  into  Peleg's  twinkling  eyes,  and 
nodded  suggestively. 

"  Yes,"  remarked  the  old  man:  "That  speech  you 
don't  put  into  words  does  end  with,an  interrogation 
mark.  I  can't  explain  to  you  why  it  is  not  manifest 
destiny.  I  ask  Martha,  and  she  says,  if  it  is  predes- 
tinated, the  Lord  doesn't  need  me  to  help  it  along, 
and  if  it  is  not  predestinated,  it  is  certainly  best  for 
me  to  mind  my  own  business.  Martha  is  a  very 
blue  Presbyterian  on  some  points,  and  this  minding 
a  body's  business  seems  to  be  with  her  a  vital  point. 
I  find  some  few  other  things  more  binding  as  it 
were." 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Irving  is  orthodox,  if  ever  a  woman 
was.  I  don't  know  anything  about  foreordination, 
but  this  (you  understand  me)  ought  to  be!  It  is 
every  way  lovely  and  desirable,"  whispered  Miss 
Eunice  emphatically,  quite  as  if  she  took  the  liberty 
of  deciding  one  case  without  any  reference  to  Mrs. 
Irving's  doctrines. 

Peleg,  seeing  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  that  his 
wiser  half  was  engaged  in  conversation,  whispered 
eagerly  in  return:  "  Can't  you  give  Agnes  a  gentle 
jog  sometime.  I  solemnly  promised  not  to  do  it, 


AFTER    TUB    STOKM   A    CALM.  309 

Martha  made  me  promise,  and  John  never  confides 
in  me ;  it  is  queer,  but  he  never,  never  does.  I 
think  he  is  afraid  of  Agnes,  or  else  he  fears  he  would 
lose  his  chance  if  he  spoke  too  soon.  The  goose  ! 
Why,  Eunice,  if  you'll  believe  me,  I  offered  myself  to 
Martha  the  Christmas  after  first  seeing  her  on  a 
Thanksgiving  day,  and  before  the  next  equinoctial 
storm,  I  repeated  that  offer  seventeen  times.  I  wor- 
ried her  into  accepting  me." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it;  but  John  is  not  like  you. 
Why  was  Guy  not  over  at  the  church  to-night,  is  he 
not  well  yet  ?  " 

"  No,  he  does  not  get  his  strength  back,"  an- 
swered Peleg  sadly,  "  but  he  will !  He  will  in  time. 
Have  you  heard  of  his  good  fortune  ? " 

"  No,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  The  Rushmore's  have  settled  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars on  him  in  case  Mrs.  Cudlip  will  leave  him  to  us 
until  he  is  of  age.  He  does  not  want  to  go  back  to 
England." 

"  Indeed  !  Well,  I  do  not  wonder  at  that !  "  said 
Miss  Eunice,  turning  away  to  join  in  the  general 
conversation  again. 

Mrs.  Irving  was  taking  the  utmost  care  of  Guy's 
health;  Agnes  tried  to  keep  him  from  brooding  mor- 
bidly over  the  tragic  death  of  his  mother,  and  Peleg 
gratified  all  his  queer  whims.  Never  was  there  a 


EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

more  contented  child  than  he  became  in  this  quiet, 
old-fashioned  family.  Every  day  brought  new  pleas- 
ures to  him.  Every  night  he  sat  with  Peleg  by  the 
open  fire,  and  discussed  his  far-off  manhood.  On 
Sunday,  Mrs.  Irving's  "Pilgrim's  Progress"  took  the 
place  of  Sister  Ursula's  "  Lives  of  the  Saints,"  but  all 
the  same,  he  was  full  of  the  desire  to  fight  dragons, 
to  win  battles  for  the  faith;  while  the  good  lady  who 
listened  to  his  chatter,  began  to  think  of  the  chil- 
dren who  indeed  win  glory,  but  never  wear  rude 
armor  here  in  conflict.  The  family  doctor  watched 
him  a  month  or  more,  and  then  said:  "  I  don't  know 
why  he  may  not  get  well,  but  I  think  he  will  not. 
He  never  had  light,  air,  and  proper  food  in  that 
musty  old  place  he  lived  in  first.  He  has  no 
constitution." 

"  He  shall  have  one  then,"  was  Peleg's  defiant  re- 
tort; but  about  midwinter,  Peleg  became  so  cross 
whenever  the  child's  health  was  mentioned,  that 
Mrs.  Irving  was  sure  he  realized, at  last,  Guy's  feeble 
condition.  One  evening,  therefore,  as  her  husband 
sat  by  the  fire,  she  ventured  to  say:  "John  thinks 
Guy  grows  weaker  every  day." 

"  He  does  not." 

"  Why,  Peleg,  can't  you  see  how  thin  he  is  ? " 

"  Fat  is  nothing.  Guy  will  have  muscle — by 
spring." 


AFTER    THE    STORM   A.   CALM.  311 

"  I  hope  so — I — I  wish  he  knew  the  Catechism, 
and  understood  our  doctrines." 

"  Martha,  I've  prepared  that  boy — as  far  as  talking 
aboiit  dying  goes,"  said  Peleg,  taking  the  poker 
awkwardly,  to  break  a  firebrand. 

"  I  am  very  glad  if  you  have.  Mr.  Hathaway  is 
getting  distressed,  he  says  he  fears  the  child  is  in 
moral  darkness.  What  was  your  conversation, 
Peleg  ? " 

"  He  is  not  going  to  die,  Martha;  but  if  he  ever 
should — we  talked  about  that." 

"  Yes,  dear,  what  about  it  ?  " 

The  old  man  swallowed  hard  before  he  answered, 
"We  planned  one  night — I  let  him,  and  I  promised. 
He  wants  that  old  crucifix  in  his  hand  and  the  holy 
bone  Sister  Ursula  gave  him  right  on  his  still  little 
heart,  and  when  he  is  laid  out,  six  tall  white  candles 
are  going  to  burn  all  day  at  his  head,  in  my  own  Puri- 
tan mother's  silver  candlesticks,  and  I  tell  you  what, 
Martha  Irving !  I  shall  put  just  as  many  more  at  the 
blessed  little  Papist's  heels,  if  he  asks  me  to  put  'em 
there,"  sobbed  Peleg,  suddenly  breaking  down. 
"  And  you  need  not  shake  your  head  so  solemn- 
ly; for  I  told  him  to  call  himself  by  any  name 
he  liked  best,  and  they  would  let  him  right  into 
Heaven,  even  if  he  went  up  from  the  old  Pope's  back 
door." 


312  E-U-NICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

"  But  Peleg,  isn't  it  sad  that  in  this  enlightened 
land—" 

"Don't  talk,  Martha!  The  little  fellow's  heart 
is  brimming  over  with  love  to  his  Saviour,  to  his 
God,  to  everybody  God  ever  made.  He  sees  more 
holy  things  in  this  old  world  than  I  ever  see,  and  if 
he  believes  a  precious  sight  of  pious  nonsense  over 
and  above  all  that,  why,  maybe  some  other  folks — " 

"  There  !  There,  Peleg,"  said  Mrs.  Irving  sooth- 
ingly. "  You  know  I  was  not  really  troubled  for  the 
dear  child." 

"  He  is  not  going  to  die,"  returned  the  old  man 
obstinately,  after  a  time  spent  in  recovering  his 
calmness.  "  He  will  grow  up,  and  very  likely  preach 
in  Mr.  Hathaway's  own  pulpit.  If  it  amused  him  to 
arrange  his  own  funeral,  why  should  I  not  let  him 
have  that  innocent  pleasure.  Now  we  will  drop 
the  subject,  Martha." 


It  was  not  in  a  woman  like  Miss  Lathrop  fully  to 
understand  the  mental  processes  of  a  girl  like  Agnes. 
The  bustling  spinster  came  at  last  to  believe  that 
the  minister's  daughter  needed  to  see  a  certain  mat- 
ter in  a  clearer  light,  so  with  the  best  intentions 
possible,  Miss  Eunice  questioned  how  she  might  help 
the  young  girl  to  self-knowledge.  She  found  no 


AFTER    THE    STORM  A    CALM.  313 

suitable  occasion  however,  throughout  the  entire 
winter;  but  one  day  in  March,  Agnes  came  to  make 
her  a  little  visit. 

Gay  and  sprightly  as  always,  Miss  Lathrop  sat  at 
work  in  the  sunniest  nook  of  her  sunny  home.  There 
were  blooming  scarlet  flowers  in  her  wide  window; 
she  was  making  a  tidy  like  a  great  yellow  sunflower, ' 
while  over  her  head  a  canary  in  a  gilded  cage  was 
filling  the  room  with  almost  earsplitting  melody. 
Agnes,  who  was  not  in  as  cheerful  a  mood  as  usual, 
grew  brighter  from  the  moment  of  her  entrance  into 
the  "  bower." 

"  Oh,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,  Agnes.  I  have 
been  thinking  about  you,"  cried  Miss  Eunice,  at  sight 
of  her  guest. 

During  the  desultory  conversation  of  the  next 
hour,  she  repeated  this  one  remark  so  frequently 
that  Agnes,  becoming  somewhat  curious,  asked  at 
last:  "What  have  been  your  thoughts  of  me,  Miss 
Eunice  ? " 

Dropping  her  embroidery,  the  lady  glanced  at  the 
calm  young  face  opposite  her  and  wondered  if  she 
might  experiment  a  little.  She  began  nervously: 
"  You  are  a  puzzle  to  me — sometimes  I  think  one 
way  of  you,  then  again  another  way."  • 

"  I  do  that  myself  and  in  regard  to  myself,"  laughed 
Agnes,  innocently. 


3 14  EUNICE    LATH  HOP,    SPINSTER. 

"There  are  girls  so  cool  and  slippery  in  manner 
that  many  people  find  them  very  unapproachable." 

"I  hope  you  do  not  class  me  among  them  then." 

Miss  Eunice  picked  up  her  sunflower,  and  viciously 
attacked  it  with  her  long  needle. 

"  Suppose  a  man  finds  out  that  he  loves  such  a 
person;  she  never  knows  it — never,  unless  somebody 
goes  and  forcibly  shakes  her,  and  says  plainly:  '  There 
is  a  man  !  Don't  you  see  him  ?  He  loves  you.'  For 
although  you  might  say,  that  man  himself  was  the 
one  chiefly  concerned  in  the  matter,  he  don't  want 
to  express  himself  with  the  suddenness  of  a  thunder- 
clap out  of  a  clear  sky." 

"  I  have  never  known  any  girls  so  stupid  as  that," 
said  Agnes,  rather  constrainedly;  "but  often  a  per- 
son seems  blind  when  it  is  not  wise  or  best  to  see, 
and  in  such  a  case  a  'shaker'  would  be  impertinent." 

Miss  Eunice  was  bent  on  mischief,  she  took  no 
heed,  but  biting  off  a  thread  instead  of  cutting  it, 
she  went  on  fiercely: 

"  Yes,  and  then  again  young  girls  naturally  hu- 
i  mane,  and  even  what  you  might  call  pious,  are  cruel 
i  as  death — they  are  now  !  They  call  it  wisdom  not 
!  to  see — what  ?  Why  that  they  are  tormenting  a 
;'  fellow  mortal;  they  ought  to  see" 

A  vivid  pink  came  out  in  Agnes's  soft  cheeks,  and 
her  large  eyes  sparkled,  but  not  "piously"  as  she 


AFTER     THE    STORM  A    CALM.  315 

said  slowly:  "  I  know  very  few  young  girls,  and 
nothing  at  all  of  their  love  affairs,"  whereupon  Miss 
Eunice  made  the  following  speech:  "I  hope  from 
the  bottom  of  my  heart,  my  dear  Agnes,  that  you 
know  yourself.  You  are  a  guileless  unsophisticated 
creature;  but  you  are  all  the  same  very  attractive. 
I  am  afraid  you  are  making  serious  trouble  by  per- 
sisting in  shutting  your  eyes  to  the  meaning  of  John 
Irving's  attentions — that  you  are — giving  occasion 
to — members — of  your  father's  flock  to  say  that  you 
are  flirting — thus — bringing  discredit— on  the  cause," 
faltered  poor  Miss  Eunice  in  a  solemn  whine,  sud- 
denly aware  that  she  had  gone  too  far. 

"  What  cause,  Miss  Lathrop  ?  "  asked  Agnes,  in- 
dignantly adding,  "  If  you  have  anything  to  say, 
you  are  right  to  be  outspoken;  but  don't  begin  in 
the  tone  of  the  sanctimonious  gossips,  who  come 
with  the  parish  complaints  to  make  my  father  mis- 
erable. I  cannot  endure  that." 

"My  grief!  Agnes,  don't  take  me  up  so — but — • 
but  what  do  you  think  about  John  Irving  anyway  ?" 

In  the  perfect  silence  that  ensued  poor  Miss  Eu- 
nice realized  that  the  minister's  daughter  could  get 
angry,  and  the  speechless  girl  was  more  truly  elo- 
quent than  a  fluent  tongued  antagonist  might  have 
been. 

"  I  did  not  mean  the  least  harm  in  what  I  said, 


316  RUNIC  PI    LATtfKOP,    SPINSTER. 

Agnes  Hathaway,"  she  meekly  remarked,  when  the 
stillness  became  unendurable. 

"What  did  you  mean  ?" 

"Why — that  I — could  not  help  seeing  that  John 
Irving  worships  you.  His  father  sees  it,  his  mother 
sees  it.  To  be  sure  they  never  told  me  this  in  plain 
words,  but  old  Peleg — well,  I  gathered  from  some 
things  he  did  say  once,  that  they  thought  you  held 
John  off  in  a  kind  of  cold-blooded  fashion." 

Another  long,  depressing  silence.  It  was  evident 
that  Agnes  did  not  think  herself  accountable  in  any 
way  to  Miss  Eunice,  who  by  this  time  was  feeling  in 
her  pocket  for  her  handkerchief.  "  I  was  afraid," 
she  whimpered,  "  that — by  and  by  everybody  would 
say  the  same  thing,  if  you  were  not  warned  in 
time." 

"  Has  anybody  ever  said  it  yet?"  cried  the  usual- 
ly calm  young  Puritan.  "Please  answer  this  one 
question." 

"  I  can't  say  yes  or  no  as  if  I  were  on  another  trial," 
sobbed  Miss  Eunice.  "And  I  never  dreamed  you 
had  such  a  spirit — no,  never  !  " 

"I  don't  want  to  distress  you,  Miss  Lathrop,"  Ag- 
nes said  much  less  impetuously.  "  Perhaps  by  and 
by  I  may  be  grateful  to  you,  for  you  must  have  in- 
tended a  kindness.  I  can  tell  you  at  once  that  no 
one  shall  ever  have  any  reason  to  speak  of  me  in  the 


AFTER    THE    STORM  A    CALM.  317 

way  you  fear,  but  I  can't  say  any  more  on  the  sub- 
ject to-day,  at  least,  and  please  never  mention  it 
first  again  to  me.  Now  I  must  go  home,  for  it  is 
already  later  than  I  intended  to  stay." 

"  Oh,  don't  go  while  you  are  angry  at  me  !  " 

Agnes  promptly  held  out  her  hand,  which  trem- 
bled a  little  as  Miss  Eunice  grasped  it  eagerly.  She 
even  smiled  forgivingly,  and  left  that  lady  realizing 
that  while  their  former  friendly  relations  were  not 
seriously  endangered,  she  had  been  guilty  of  a  great 
indiscretion. 

"  I  never  would  have  believed,"  soliloquized  the 
spinster,  "  that  she  could  have  fired  into  such  a  beau- 
tiful rage;  for  she  was  handsome  as  a  picture  when 
she  drew  herself  up,  and  she  scared  me  mightily. 
John  Irving  may  as  well  give  up  his  fine  hopes,  but 
I  won't  be  the  person  to  tell  him  so;  and  I  will  take 
old  Peleg  to  task  for  this  day's  performance.  I  never 
would  have  done  what  I  did  this  afternoon,  if  he  had 
not  suggested  it  to  me.  Mrs.  Irving  would  have 
known  better.  Peleg  is  always  putting  queer  no- 
tions into  my  head." 

Miss  Lathrop  would  have  been  cheered  in  this 
season  of  discomfiture,  had  she  known  how  grate- 
fully John  Irving  himself  had  secretly  received  sev- 
eral random  speeches  of  hers — speeches  that  caused 
him  to  reflect  as  did  Sancho  Panza,  that,  "  Though 


318  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

there  is  little  in  a  woman's  advice,  yet  he  who  won't 
take  it  is  not  over  wise." 

All  the  way  home  from  Miss  Lathrop's  abode, 
Agnes  was  grievously  perplexed.  Must  there  be  a 
sudden  and  decided  falling  off  in  the  extremely 
pleasant  and  unconstrained  friendship  existing  be- 
tween herself  and — the  Irving  family  ?  In  so  far  as 
John  Irving  was  concerned,  she  reflected  that  it  was 
not  at  all  needful  for  any  one  to  say  to  her,  in  the 
words  of  the  spinster,  "There  is  a  man!"  He  had 
revealed  himself  to  her,  slowly  but  surely,  in  this 
year  gone  by.  She  recognized  his  fine  qualities,  she 
did  not  consider  him  a  hero;  but  she  believed  he  could 
be  heroic  if  occasion  required  him  to  prove  that  as  a 
possibility.  So  old  Peleg,  and  perhaps  Mrs.  Irving 
were  secretly  reproaching  her,  thinking  she  did  not 
appreciate  their  son  ?  Yes,  it  was  evidently  her 
duty  to  take  a  new  stand.  She  paced  slowly  home- 
ward, toward  a  gorgeous  sunset — not  seeing  it,  re- 
solving that  she  would  devote  her  life  henceforth  to 
her  venerable  father.  She  would  exemplify  in  that 
life  all  the  Christian  graces,  particularly  the  grace 
of  self-denial.  John  Irving  must  never  be  able  to 
say  or  even  to  think  that  she  encouraged  his  hopes 
only  to  disappoint  them.  She  was  somewhat  dis- 
concerted to  find  the  young  man  serenely  awaiting 
her  in  the  parsonage  parlor.  He  complimented  her 


AFTER    THE    STORM  A    CALM.  319 

on  her  fine  color,  and  after  a  little  chat  remarked, 
"  Guy  sent  me  (unwillingly  of  course),  to  invite  you 
to  spend  the  evening  with  us.  We  are  to  have  a  time 
of  rejoicing,  and  I  am  to  go  for  Miss  Eunice  also. 
A  letter  has  arrived  from  Mrs.  Cudlip,  in  which  she 
assures  father  that  he  may  adopt  the  child,  and  her 
heart  overflows  with  gratitude.  It  is  a  very  effusive 
epistle.  I  can  well  imagine  the  woman  who  wrote 
it.  She  says  Guy  has  only  one  other  relative,  some 
military  individual  away  in  India,  who  takes  no  in- 
terest in  him.  She  herself  loves  the  boy  to  excess; 
but  remembering  her  poverty,  she  sacrifices  herself 
to  his  best  interests.  Will  you  come,  Agnes  ?  I 
will  call  for  you,  if  I  may." 

"  Guy  is  getting  quite  well  again,  is  he  not  ?  "  she 
asked,  improving  in  color  herself. 

"  He  is  well,  and  my  father  says,  '  I  told  you  so' 
a  dozen  times  a  day.  You  might  return  with  me 
now,  and  ask  your  father  to  come  in  time  for  supper." 

"  I  think  Guy  will  have  to  excuse  me  to-night." 

They  were  standing  near  a  west  window,  and 
Agnes's  face  told  tales. 

"  I  wonder  why  you  do  not  want  to  come,  and  so 
show  your  thought,  not  having  time  to  think  of  a 
true  excuse.  I  am  greatly  given  to  wondering  about 
many  things  in  regard  to  you  lately,  Agnes.  Shall 
I  tell  you  what  puzzles  me  ? " 


320  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

She  exhibited  a  discouraging  lack  of  interest;  but 
she  had  to  hear  more  positive  statements  than  Miss 
Eunice's  own  had  been,  although  these  last  were 
not  now  of  any  fault-finding  character.  There  in 
the  fading  spring  sunset,  while  the  minister  in  the 
next  room  was  finishing  a  long  discourse  on  the  per- 
severance of  the  saints,  John  Irving  began  to  re- 
new his  suit  with  a  persistency  of  purpose  that  would 
have  satisfied  old"  Peleg  himself.  Unlike  Miss  La- 
throp,  he  did  not  care  whether  Agnes  knew  her  own 
mind  perfectly  or  not,  if  only  she  would  let  him  take 
his  time  and  way  to  demonstrate  his  love  for  her. 
The  Reverend  Bela  ended  his  sermon  and  entered 
the  parlor  before  John  had  gone  home.  He  was  as- 
tonished, but  he  was  more  than  delighted  to  have 
the  young  man  request  him  to  pronounce  a  bene- 
diction, not  merely  after  the  ministerial  fashion,  but 
in  the  familiar  way  of  a  fatherly  blessing.  He  hesi- 
tated a  moment  before  he  asked  the  straightforward 
question,  that  John  himself  had  actually  avoided, 
"  Are  you  sure,  my  daughter,  that  you  love  this 
man  ? "  and  Agnes  answered  clearly, 

"  Yes,  I  know  that  I  am  not  making  any  mistake, 
father." 

There  was  much  gayety  and  rejoicing  in  the  Irv- 
ing cottage  that  evening.  Miss  Eunice  had  come 
to  meet  Agnes  with  fear,  but  her  heart  melted  at 


AFTER    THE    STORM   A    CALM.  321 

the  forgiving  sweetness  the  young  girl  manifested 
toward  her  from  the  first  moment.  Late  in  the 
evening,  Peleg,  beckoning  the  spinster  into  the 
chimney  corner,  confided  to  her  the  fact,  that  John 
was  engaged  to  Agnes,  and  without  doubt  that  they 
would  be  married  in  June.  Eunice  threw  up  her 
hands,  and  very  nearly  tumbled  over  the  andirons 
in  her  unbounded  amazement. 

"Peleg  Irving!"  she  exclaimed.  "  When  did  this 
occur — this  engagement  ?  " 

"  About  six  o'clock  I  guess,  when  John  was  over 
there  at  the  parsonage." 

"  And  about  half-past  five  this  very  blessed  after- 
noon I  gave  Agnes  Hathaway  that  little  hint  you 
recommended.  How  prompt  these  slow  contem- 
plative natures  are,  when  once  they  get  thoroughly 
aroused  ! " 

"Of  course,  and  it  only  needed  you  and  me,  Eu- 
nice, to  take  hold  of  the  matter  and  settle  it  all,  as 
you  might  say.  See  the  happy  innocents  over  there 
on  the  sofa !  Yes,  we  would  have  made  a  rare  cou- 
ple for  emergencies,  Eunice  Lathrop,  but  I  thank  the 
kind  Providence  who  gave  me  Martha  instead." 

"So  do  I,  Peleg  —  and  you  say  they  may  be 
married  in  June.  How  lovely !  We  will  make 
that  old  church  a  paradise  of  roses.  Agnes  is  a 
good  girl." 


322  EUNICE    LATHROP,    SPINSTER. 

"  And  our  John  is  worthy  of  Her,"  returned  the  old 
man. 

"To  think  that  I  should  be  such  a  matchmaker!" 
"  And  I — such  another  !  " 

The  wedding  was  in  June.  Miss  Eunice  Lathrop, 
who  had  read  many  mild  English  novels,  pleased 
herself  in  arraying  the  children  of  Mr.  Hathaway's 
congregation  in  white  robes,  and  having  them  strew 
flowers  before  the  bride,  from  the  little  parsonage 
across  the  shadowy  churchyard  into  the  dark  porch 
up  to  the  very  altar.  Everybody  remarked  how 
well  Miss  Eunice  managed  these  little  matters  for 
she  had  "  been  abroad." 


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"  She  has  worked  up  a  cause  celebre  with  a  fertility  of  device  and  ingenu- 
ity of  treatment  hardly  second  to  Wilkie  Collins  or  Edgar  Allen  1'oe." — 
Christian  Union. 

"  We  have  read  no  story  for  a  long  time  which  has  had  so  much  of  the 
Wilkie  Collins,  and  Edgar  Allen  Poe  flavor  of  reality  in  the  telling." — Con- 
gregationalist. 

"  We  do  not  propose  to  give  the  plot  of  the  work,  however,  but  merely  to 
say  that  it  is  one  of  the  most  ingenious  of  the  kind  we  have  ever  read." — 
Buffalo  Express, 

"  This  is  the  sort  of  book  to  be  eagerly  read  and  thoroughly  enjoyed." — 
St.  Paul  Pioneer. 

"  A  new  novel  by  a  new  writer,  which  enchains  our  attention  from  the 
very  first  sentence  of  the  first  page,  is  a  pleasant  surprise.  *  *  *  Told 
with  a  force  and  power  that  indicate  great  dramatic  talent  in  the  writer." — • 
St.  Louis  Post. 

"  Its  interest  is  undoubted  and  it  is  thoroughly  well  sustained." — N.  Y, 
livening  Post. 

"  The  story  is  developed  with  great  skill  and  shows  ingenuity  of  the  high- 
est  order." — Troy  Times. 

"  A  story  of  mystery  and  crime  and  is  here  narrated  with  an  artistic  skill 
which  inevitably  holds  the  interest  of  the  reader,  even  to  the  point  of  the 
highest  tension,  to  the  close  of  the  last  chapter.  *  *  *  A  real  marvel  of 
fiction,  ' — Davenport  Gazette, 


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THE  SWORD  OF  DAMOCLES.  By  ANNA  KATHARINE  GREEN, 
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ance."  Large  I2mo,  cloth  extra,  .  .  .  .  .  $1  50 

"  When  '  The  Leavenworth  Case  '  was  published  everybody  marvelled  be- 
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us  by  a  resistless  grip  until  its  finis  was  reached.  We  all  said  it  was  a  man  When 
we  discovered  that  it  was  a  young  woman  we  wondered  more  than  ever.  Its  plot 
was  original,  striking,  and  delightfully  perplexing.  To-day  we  have  another  story 
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restrained  and  equable  use  of  language." — Christian  Register  (Boston). 

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"  A  very  entertaining  and  readable  book." — Boston  Post. 
"  Very  clever  and  extremely  entertaining." — Worcester  Spy. 

"  Remarkable  skill  in  construction  is  evinced  by  the  author  of  this  volume. 
After  perusing  the  first  chapter  the  reader  delves  further  and  further  into  its  pages, 
absorbed  by  the  fascinating  interest  of  the  story,  in  the  unravelling  of  which  consum- 
mate tact  is  displayed." — St.  Louis  Spectator. 

"  There  is  no  lack  of  striking  situations,  in  fact  every  chapter  is  bristling 
with  startling  incidents  ;  but  withal  there  is  a  quiet,  captivating  tone  which  relieves 
it  from  sensationalism.  The  characters  are  well  drawn,  and  the  descriptive  portions 
show  undoubted  ability.  A  more  delightful  volume  may  hardly  be  found." — Detroit: 
Times. 

"'  The  Sword  of  Damocles'  exhibits  unusual  skill  in  weaving  the  plot.  *  *  * 
The  breathless  current  of  events,  the  fierce  energy,  and  the  sharply  defined  characters 
must  attract  the  general  reader." — 5.  F.  Eve.  Bulletin. 

"  Its  plot  is  worthy  of   Wilkie  Collins."— S.  F.  Sunday  Chronicle. 

"  It  is  admirably  written,  and,  while  not  as  mysterious  as  its  immediate  pre- 
decessor, will  hold  the  reader's  attention  to  the  end." — Chicago  Tribune. 

"  '  The  Sword  of  Damocles '  is  a  book  of  great  power,  which  far  surpasses 
either  of  its  predecessors  from  the  author's  pen,  and  places  her  high  among  Ameri- 
can writers.     *     *     *     In  the  delineation  of  character  she  has  shown   both  delicacy 
tld  vigor." — Boston  Congregationalist. 


